


Storm and Fury

by ISailOnShips



Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:27:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 59,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24329518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ISailOnShips/pseuds/ISailOnShips
Summary: Raelle and Abigail must figure out how to deal with their weird new Besties Power Link. Scylla and Anacostia work together to try and make a better America while Scylla and Raelle work to find common ground. Tally takes advantage of her new Biddy position to help Alder with her decisions.I suck at summaries, so I might fix this later. This is a post season 1, canon compliant fic, imagined and created by me.
Relationships: Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Comments: 305
Kudos: 646





	1. Tired and Scared

"I'm s-sorry? Did you just say da-daughter?" Scylla stumbles over her words like a baby gazelle learning to walk. She looks wide eyed at the woman across the marble island.

"Yes, Scylla. My daughter was supposed to be here with you." The woman cocks her head to the side expectantly as the mushrooms on the stove sizzle. "So what happened?"

"Wait," Scylla rubs her forehead where she suddenly feels a headache forming. " _You_ are Raelle's _mom_? You're Willa? The mom that she thinks is _dead_? And you didn't think to tell me this _crucial_ information before throwing me into the mission blind?"

"What would you have done, Scylla?" Willa asks, putting her focus on her cooking once again. "Do you think she would have just believed you if you told her that her dead mother was a leader of the Spree? I would have thought you knew Raelle better by now. You were sleeping with her, after all."

Scylla swallows dryly. It hits her at last. She had been sleeping with her _boss' daughter_. She had fallen in love with a Spree leader's daughter. _Holy shit_.

Now was not the time to freak out about it, though; there were more important things at hand. She could panic about this later. Raelle thought her mother was dead. She blames the military for taking her away, but now that she was _alive_ , what would that do to her?

"You let Raelle think you were dead for a year." Scylla says, feeling her blood begin to bubble in her veins. "She has been broken up about it all this time for nothing? How could you give your own daughter that kind of heart break?"

"Oh, sweetheart." Willa turns around again. A faux smile is painted on her lips, but Scylla can see the pain chiseled into the clear blue eyes that suddenly resemble the ones she sees in her dreams every single night. "You wouldn't understand the sacrifice I had to make to keep Raelle safe. This was the only way."

"The only way for what?" Scylla asks.

She steps further into the kitchen as Willa once again brings her attention back to the mushrooms in the skillet. Scylla's stomach turns at the sight as Willa takes a blue plate from the cabinet above her and slides the mushrooms onto it. Mushrooms were the plant of the underworld and as a Necro, it didn't seem right to Scylla to eat them. It was an unspoken rule to the Necros of Fort Salem that mushrooms were sacred to their division and she didn't know of a single Necro who ate them. Scylla is sure that Willa knows of this. Willa places the plate on the island. Scylla's palm is uncomfortably warm and irritating and she absentmindedly rubs at it as she watches Raelle's not dead dead mother.

"I want my daughter back, Scylla."

"Well," Scylla sighs sadly, feeling the weight of the painful truth she was about to say for the first time out loud. "She knows about me. She knows I lied and she doesn't trust me anymore." _She hates me_.

"If you had just delivered her to me at the wedding like you were supposed to, we wouldn't be in this predicament, now would we?" There's a sharpness in Willa's tone that could cut through flesh like a knife, but Scylla doesn't care. She's already lost the most important thing to her. What else was there to lose?

"I thought she would be hurt." Scylla slices back. "I wasn't going to let that happen to her."

Willa puts her weight on her hands which grip the end of the island as she takes cognizance of the look in Scylla's eyes.

"You love her."

With a defeated sigh, Scylla nods. "She will never listen to me again." She says quietly. "I can't help you see Raelle."

"My dear," Willa walks to the refrigerator and takes out a pitcher of water. She pours a glass and stands in front of the Necro. She offers Scylla the drink and the girl accepts it. The cold glass sooths her burning hand. Raelle's mother takes Scylla's face in her hands and with a determined smile, she says, "You're the only one that can."

* * *

Tally cries. Tally cries the entire trip back to Fort Salem. Tally cries as a couple of Lieutenants bring her belongings from Circe to her new shared room. Tally cries all night long, getting absolutely zero sleep and probably keeping the Biddies awake. She mourns for the loss of her unit. She watched helplessly in that bat as Raelle was stabbed through the heart. She watched as Abigail tried to heal her unhealable wound. She watched as her sisters lay, hand in hand, taking their last breaths together. She watched and did _nothing_.

She wonders if this is what her mother feels every single day.

The other Biddies had tried to comfort her, but nothing could bring them back. Everything had changed in the blink of an eye. Her girls had died. She had given up her youth to save General Alder without a second thought. The Camarilla had returned and they were more powerful than ever before. And there was that… _thing_ that happened as the bat ascended from the blood bath. What the hell was that? Even in Alder's 300 plus years of living, she said she had never seen such a thing happen before.

Another sob erupts from Tally's body. She wishes Raelle was there to curl up in the bed with her and hold her like she had done to the smaller girl after she believed Scylla was dead. She wishes Abigail was there to take her hand and tell her everything was going to be alright; that she had a Bellweather in her unit so she was in perfect hands.

But they were gone. Killed in a strange place. Tired. Scared. Used up. Wanting to come home. Their funeral would take place in two days. Their caskets would be empty and their medals missing; not a single thing to be given to their parents. The last two of their blood lines. Gone.

One will be remembered in the history books with ease; another heroic Bellweather. The other would most likely be forgotten, save for her fellow Cession witches.

Tally would never forget.

Tally's pillow is soaked and she flips it over to the dryer side. When they returned, Anacostia wasn't even there to greet them. Alder had needed to find another soldier to give herself to the cause as the other Biddy who had been struck with a plague dart died in the bat. Anacostia was nowhere to be seen to help, though Tally was more upset that she wasn't around to give her the comfort she needed.

She had never felt so alone.

* * *

It's the middle of the night when Anacostia slaps a hand over Scylla's partially opened mouth. Her eyes shoot open wide as she tries to scramble away before her eyes adjust to the darkness and focus on the owner of the hand. Her eyebrows furrow in shock as Anacostia places her index finger over her lips. Scylla nods and sucks in a breath when the Sergeant uncovers her mouth.

"What the hell?" Scylla whispers through her ragged breathing. "What are you doing here? Did you follow me?"

"What are you doing back with the Spree?" Anacostia growls. Her eyes are black in the slip of moonlight coming from the open window.

"I am the Spree, Anacostia. What would you have had me do? Run from the Army _and_ the Spree? I would be dead within _weeks_." Scylla sits up and wraps the blanket around her body. She looks at Anacostia in the dark. It's the first time she's ever seen the Sergeant in civilian clothes. She wears a jogger's outfit: sweatpants and a hoodie.

Anacostia takes in her words and nods. "You didn't think I would let you run off without keeping tabs on you, did you?"

Scylla sighs with exasperation. She should have know. She would never truly be free from the Army or the Spree. Like the chronic pain of a once broken bone, she would always have a part of the Army with her. Her connection just so happened to be a Sergeant that won't leave her be. If she was being honest with herself, there was some relief to Anacostia being there with her. In the weirdest way, the two of them had connected with one another in her Necro torture chamber. She knew more about Anacostia, and Anacostia knew more about her than anybody else now. Not even Raelle knew the details of how her parents had died. She and the Sergeant were far more alike than the latter wanted to admit—two sides of the same coin finding a family on opposite sides of a war. She had a comforting trust toward the older woman.

Like a Stockholm Syndrome victim, Scylla was glad to see her past torturer.

"What do you want, Anacostia?" Scylla rubs the bridge of her nose. Crumbles of crusty sleep fall from the corners of her eyes. It was the first decent sleep she'd had in a while. "If you didn't bring a _'thank you for staying at the Torture Dungeon Inn'_ card and a mint chocolate candy gift, I'm not interested."

"What did they want when they saw you? Were you given a new mission?" Anacostia wastes no time coming straight out with her intentions.

Scylla gapes at the woman before her. She can't help the hushed laugh that escapes her. "You want me to turn spy for the side that tortured me for weeks? You're joking, right?"

Anacostia shakes her head. "That isn't exactly what this is. This isn't for Alder. Or Petra for that matter. This is for me. It's.. hard to explain. But I want to help."

Scylla's mouth is wide open. "You want to join the Spree?"

"Goddess no." The look of disgust Anacostia wears at the assumption is enough to make Scylla laugh again. "I want what is best for this country and the people in it. Civilians and witches alike. You can help if you just trust me, Ramshorn."

Scylla looks at Anacostia with regard. She was being vague in her explanation, but she said this wasn't for Alder. Anacostia was going outside of canon for something that brought a passionate glint in her dark eyes. Scylla was interested.

"My mission hasn't changed." Scylla says quietly. "My mark remains the same. Raelle. They want Raelle."

"Why do they want Raelle so bad?" Anacostia sits on the floor beside the bed and looks up at Scylla.

Scylla shakes her head, still personally trying to process the information she had learned yesterday. "You're not going to believe this, but…" Scylla lets out a heavy breath. "Raelle's mom is alive. And she's one of the Spree leaders."

Anacostia stares dumfounded at the Spree agent and takes silent minutes to gauge this new intel. "Raelle's mother… She's… Does Raelle know this?"

Scylla shakes her head before resting it on the palms of her hands. "She spoke about her like she believed she had died on that beach. I don't think Raelle even questions it."

"Wow." Anacostia says. "This is… unexpected to say the least."

"You're telling me." Scylla stands from the bed, suddenly feeling restless. She begins pacing around the room.

"Do you believe Willa's intentions are pure? She just wants to see her daughter?"

Scylla puffs out an ambivalent laugh. "Do you? She kept repeating, _'_ _she's more powerful than she knows'_ , and, _'she's essential'_. I don't know what to think anymore, Anacostia. But all I know is that I _have_ to see Raelle. I have to bring her to Willa to talk. It's my final chance. I don't think they'll accept another failure by me, if you know what I mean." Scylla's hand shakes as she nervously runs it through her hair.

Anacostia comes to her feet and lets out a frustrated breath. "I don't know when that could happen." She says, crossing her arms over her chest and looking carefully at the shorter witch. "The Bellweather unit has been deployed."

Scylla stops dead in her tracks. She looks up at the soldier, her lips parted, and says slowly, "What did you just say?"

Anacostia looks up at the ceiling, feeling her own emotions threaten to overtake her. She explains everything from the Tarim, to the unit confiding in Petra Bellweather about everything, to the puppeting of the President. "Alder found out and kept them from going to War College. They deployed to the last known location of the Tarim on graduation day. It is believed that the Spree are taking out witches now for some unknown reason. The Bellweather line is almost completely depleted now and the Tarim are almost extinct."

Scylla shakes her head and furiously wipes at the tears that snake their way down her cheeks. "No. The Spree don't attack other witches. There's no way. When will they be back?"

Anacostia shrugs. "I don't know. They could be back now."

Scylla's shaking hands fidget in front of her. "Tell me as soon as you can." Her eyes are wet and pleading when they make contact with Anacostia's. "Please."

* * *

When Anacostia drives back onto base, the first thing she notices is that nobody is outside except for the gate guards. The second thing she notices when she pulls the Humvee into it's spot and heads to the Command Building, is that the flags are at half-mast. Anacostia's heart thumps hard like a drum as she climbs the steps and enters the building.

She barely presses her knuckles against the wood of the door before it's swung open to reveal a full room. General Alder stands facing the large open window, a glass of whiskey in her hands. Petra Bellweather sits in the chair in front of the General's desk and beside her General Clary crouches with her hand gently placed on her shoulder. Along with them, the room contains Izadora, Witch Father, Bridey, and the Biddies. One of them sits hunched over herself with her back to the door. She's crying. There's another Biddy that Anacostia has never seen before.

"General." Anacostia steps into the room and stands at attention behind Petra. Izadora steps up beside Quartermaine and places her own hand on her uniformed shoulder. At the sound of her voice, the crying Biddy whips around and barrels toward her.

"Sergeant." The voice of the Biddy brings a heavy flip to Anacostia's stomach and she holds her breath as the weak arms tighten around her with every sob coming from the woman.

Anacostia fights the cry that almost hurdles out of her when she sees the familiar honey brown eyes under sagging eyelids in front of her. Tally's cheeks are long and spotted with age and the wet streaks form war trenches bordering her nose and mouth. Anacostia grabs Tally's withered face in her hands and takes in her white hair and wrinkled forehead.

"Craven?" Anacostia breathes. Tally closes her eyes at her Sergeant's touch and nods her head sadly.

"Sergeant Quartermaine." Alder turns around and faces them. "Where were you yesterday?"

Tally steps to the side to allow the two to speak, but stays close enough that she could reach out and touch her former Drill Sergeant.

Anacostia straightens up once more and looks back to the General. "I was tending to some personal things, General. Nothing you need to worry about." She glances at Biddy Tally for a fleeting moment. "How did the mission go?"

Alder slowly makes her way to stand face to face with her. "The mission was a success. We rescued the remaining Tarim." She glances around at the rest of the soldiers in the room. "We were attacked."

"The Spree?" Anacostia asks. Her heart pounds in her throat. The silence and tension in the room reveals it's not such an easy culprit.

Alder shakes her head. "Our ancient enemy has returned. The Camarilla."

"The Camarilla…" Anacostia repeats slowly. She looks behind Alder to the stiff body of Petra.

"We lost many soldiers." Alder says, and her eyes show a sincere sadness toward the woman before her. "Private Abigail Bellweather and Private Raelle Collar were killed in battle."

Anacostia's stomach drops. Her lungs stop working in that moment and she forgets how to breathe as Tally's wrinkled hand sweeps her own up in a tight squeeze. Izadora's hand, which is still on Anacostia's shoulder, squeezes ever so slightly. Her vision blurs and she repeats the words in her head.

_Private Abigail Bellweather and Private Raelle Collar were killed in battle._

"This can't be." Anacostia says in little more than a whisper. "This can't be."

"The Camarilla have taken our songs, and distorted them into something wicked. They came from all sides. We were outnumbered. And overwhelmed. It happened so fast."

"Raelle was stabbed from behind after saving a little boy." Tally managed to speak through a broken and cracking voice. "Abigail went back for her. It was too late, but she wouldn't leave Raelle's side. They were together in the end…"

Petra whimpers in front of the desk and her back convulses in her attempt to stay calm and composed.

"I'm sorry." Alder says, placing her hand on Anacostia's other shoulder. "I know how much they meant to you." With a bow of her head, she steps away and places herself back at the window, surely staring at the flags blowing in the breeze. "We will hold their funeral honors tomorrow morning. They will be held together. As a unit until the end. Edwin Collar arrives this evening."

Anacostia doesn't wipe away the warm tears that drip down her face and land like missiles on the hardwood floor. She barely breathes. The Bellweather unit were not even supposed to _be_ there. They had the highest score of all of the units, and she was _sure_ they would go onward to War College. But Alder had prevented it. And because of that, they were gone. Raelle and Abigail were gone, and Alder had taken the only surviving member's youth and innocence. The woman whom she had idolized and viewed as a mother figure for years had become a monster in just days.

"I heard about Scylla." Alder says, breaking the silence and changing the subject. "What happened?"

Anacostia gathers herself together and clears her closed throat. "She got the better of me when I was preparing her for her prison transport. With a food tray… she knocked me out." Anacostia pretends to be embarrassed to have been taken down by a mere silver platter and a 19 year old cadet. She bows her head in false shame and waits for Alder's reaction.

"A second year bested one of my best soldiers and managed to go undetected through the base?" Alder's jaw clenches and unclenches as her eyes stay locked out of the window.

"She's a very smart girl, General." Izadora says beside Anacostia with another squeeze of her shoulder. "There's no denying that. As her teacher, I can attest that she is very gifted and smart and.. handy."

Alder looks back to the two women. She downs the rest of her glass and places it on the windowsill. "Yes. I guess that is true. It's not so important now anyway. There are more pressing things we must discuss. The Camarilla are far more powerful than they were long ago. They have stolen our songs and are using them against us and they have even more new and dangerous weapons."

"What can we do?" Clary asks.

"We must stay vigilant, ladies. We must train our cadets with more force and prepare them for _anything_."

* * *

"Do you think she suspects anything?" Izadora asks once they exit the building and head toward Circe under the cloudy sky.

"I don't think we should worry too much for now." Anacostia says, face stoic and tone plain. "She has a lot of bigger things to think about. Looking into how Scylla escaped will be on the bottom of her list."

"Where is she now?" Izadora asks. The way the base seemed completely abandond makes it easier for the two to freely talk as they walk and they speak in only slightly low voices. "That's where you were last night, yes? Following her?"

Anacostia nods. "She's safe for now. She's at a Spree hideout."

"You found a Spree hideout?" Izadora stops in front of Anacostia, her eyes wide with excitment.

"I did." Anacostia says. "It's small. About four agents in it. Five now that Scylla is there. But she may not be safe there for long. Not with the information I will have to tell her."

As the two begin to walk in step again, Izadora sighs. "What will we do now? Now that the Camarilla are back, what do we do?"

"The Spree were trying to warn us about the Camarilla's return." Anacostia says. "I think this changes everything, Iz. We need to come up with something _entirely_ different. But I think this could be good. This is the start of a new time."

* * *

They walk under the sun and they walk under the moon. They don't know where they're going, they just know they need to go. Hands clasped together, they continue on. Around them is a barrier of black, gliding and floating around them. They don't know what it is, just as they don't know what's happened to them.

They were supposed to be _dead_. Raelle remembers being stabbed. She _feels_ the memory of being stabbed. The exact spot where her war charm had been just seconds before. She had fallen, she was bleeding out. Abigail had run to her, had tried to fix her. There was no fixing her. She was going to die there. She told her to break the Link but she refused. She was always stubborn like that. They would both die there.

But they weren't dead. They were alive. Somehow. They were alive and there was no stab wound, only dried blood and dirt and the black powdery residue of the explosion that erupted from their linked hands.

What the hell was happening?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter made me so emotional! Just saying! Leave a comment and don't forget to hit that kudos button!
> 
> Shout out to the "Might Mushroom Powers"
> 
> Find me on Tumblr and send me some questions @ Gayassheda !!


	2. Oil and Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anacostia must give Scylla bad news and Edwin Collar attends the funeral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this late last night and then most of this morning. (I'm a slow writer and read through it nonstop to check for mess ups) Totally drained after this heavy chapter and I'm almost done outlining the entire story. Hope you all enjoy it! Don't forget give it kudos and love if you like it!

Anacostia sits at the far corner table of an empty café called _Happy Cat Café_. There was nothing happy about this moment in this café as she waited for the ding of the bell above the entrance door and the footsteps that would come closer and closer to finding out that their last ounce of happiness would fall away in this ironically named building. Anacostia let out a shaky breath as she stirred her untouched espresso in front of her. She hadn't had any sleep in over 24 hours. But it wasn't the lack of sleep that made her eyes heavy and her body weak.

_Ding._

Anacostia's heart skips a beat, unsettled by the inevitable conversation she would be having. The steps are light and rhythmical as they get louder and closer. In front of her now sits a refreshed Scylla. Her hair is washed, her eyes are bright, and her smile is high voltage. She wears a simple blue striped button down shirt tucked sloppily into a pair of light wash jeans. She's completely different from 24 hours ago, locked away in the Necro facility with the witch's collar around her neck and chains tying her to a steel chair.

"Well this is cozy." Scylla smiles at her environment and lifts the small menu from the round table. "I hope their iced coffee is good."

"Scylla." Anacostia says.

Scylla scans the menu. Her face is alive with color as her eyebrows furrow and rise with every interesting item she sees. "You know, I've never had an omelet before. Is that weird? Have you ever had an omelet?"

"Scylla." Anacostia says again, watching as she looks up from her menu. She cocks her head slightly and lays the paper back onto the table.

"What is it?" The smile on her face dwindles into a small frown when she recognizes the dejected look across from her. "What's wrong?"

Anacostia takes her cool mug and brings it to her lips. Without as much as a sip, she sets it back down. "There's uh… There's no easy way to say this." She looks up from her drink to the young girl. The young girl who, like her, had lost everything she held dear to her all too soon. She was about to lose more. "Raelle is dead."

Scylla stares at Anacostia as her eyes glaze over and her lips part. "No." Scylla says. Her voice wavers but does well in staying strong. "No, you're lying."

Anacostia looks away as she begins to feel her own tears form in the inner corners of her eyes. She fights them back, and unlike in Alder's office, she successfully holds her emotions at bay. "She saved a young boy."

"No." Scylla repeats, her voice breaking this time. The first tear falls over her eyelid. "You're lying."

"Abigail died with her, trying to save her." Scylla's shaking her head now. Her chin trembles and the tears begin to rain down. "She fought bravely--"

"Stop!" Scylla cries. Her eyes gleam deep blue behind their salted barrier now. "Stop lying! Why are you lying to me?"

"I wish I was lying." Anacostia says, reaching over to take Scylla's hand. Scylla pulls away from the touch aggressively, but immediately brings it back and grips her hand like she's a life raft and Scylla is drowning in the ocean.

"This can't be true." She sobs. "She can't be dead. She's not dead, she's not allowed to be dead!"

They sit there in the silence only broken by Scylla's sobs and sniffles and occasional incomprehensible words. They sit, hands together long enough for Anacostia to lose track of time. When Scylla finally goes quiet, she takes a napkin from the table and pats her eyes and cheeks and nose and looks back up to Anacostia. She pulls her hand away and sets them both on her lap as she stares, heavy lidded, at the table between them.

"Was it quick?" Her voice is barely audible and Anacostia just barely hears it.

"I doubt she felt anything." Anacostia responds quietly.

They sit there for a while before Anacostia reaches into the bag she had brought for the one thing it carried inside. She pulls out a wooden box and gently sets it on the table.

"She would have wanted you to have this back."

Scylla stares at the box. It's not the original box it came in. She had that one in her room, though surely it was thrown away or taken for evidence or something once she was captured. This was an old jewelry box, much lighter in color than the other one. Scylla runs her fingers over the box and to the opening latch. She slowly lifts the lid.

Inside is the bird's skull she was gifted with right before the wedding. Raelle had gone searching for a dead bird for days before she finally came across one on her way back to Circe from the mess hall one night. She had actually crafted the whole corsage by herself, dead bird's head and all. Scylla remembers the look of disgust when she described the way she had to get the skull out of the rest of the bird and how she had brought Tally into it to help get rid of the smell of death from their suite before their next inspection.

_"Abigail walks in and immediately starts gagging at the stench." Raelle says through a fit of laughter. "Meanwhile, Tal's swingin' a book up and down at the open window an' I've got an inch thick layer of bleach water on the floor, barefoot, and slidin' around like the time I went ice skating with my parents when I was six."_

The stones set in the hollows of its eyes glint at her from inside the box.

_"They're carnelian." Raelle explains. "Mama brought back a bunch from her deployment in Madagascar and I asked Pop to send me a couple. It's supposed to help with vitality, and confidence, and sexual energy."_

_"Sexual energy?" Scylla repeats, looking amusedly back at the blonde. "Am I not energetic enough for you?"_

_Raelle smiles. "Oh, you are. Trust me." She laces her calloused fingers with Scylla's as they continue walking. "I picked those stones mostly because I liked the color. But…"_

_"But?"_

_"We could test out that sexual energy thing real quick before the wedding."_

_Scylla laughs and pulls Raelle in for a long kiss. "You're too much." She says before she gives Raelle's bottom lip a love bite._

"She still loved you, Scylla." Anacostia says softly, reassuring.

Scylla's blurred eyes are glued to the decorated bird's skull. She barely had the chance to wear it before it fell during the wedding. All of that work that Raelle had put into it and it was only worn for three hours.

Remembering the wedding brings another thought to Scylla's mind. She needed to know.

"Was it the Spree?" She asks in a gruff voice.

Anacostia sees the dark change in the young witch's manner when she asks the question. Her allegiance to the Spree was nothing compared to her allegiance to Raelle. Anacostia knew this from their success using Collar against her to find out about Baylord Auto, but this look in the girl's eyes now was enough to set fire to any Spree cell within a twenty mile radius if Anacostia told her it was them.

"It was the Camarilla."

Scylla's eyes are on Anacostia now, her eyes big. "The Camarilla?"

Anacostia nods. "Be careful out here, Scylla." She looks at the clock on the wall. "I must go. Collar's father will be arriving soon."

Scylla looks back down at the skull now in her hand. Her chin trembles again.

"Her funeral honors will be tomorrow morning." Anacostia says before standing and leaving the Happy Cat Café.

* * *

A wooden table stands to the side of a podium in front of hundreds of white chairs. The photos of Abigail Bellweather and Raelle Collar are set in dark frames atop it. In front of Abigail's photo lies a Scourge, but the space around Raelle's is bare.

Tally stands alone in front of the table and looks down at the faces of her fallen sisters. Innocent, unknowing, young. These photos were taken the day they arrived at Fort Salem. Tally remembers when they all received their photos a couple of weeks after they were taken.

_"Look how badass I look!" Tally exclaims. "This is what a warrior looks like, right here."_

_"My mom has a version of this for every rank she's made." Abigail says, putting her photoset away in her closet. "It gets less exciting the more of them you get."_

_"Well this is my first one, so I'm gonna live it up." Tally says. She folds the paper at the border of one of the smaller versions. "I want to send it to my mom, but I know she'll just call me crying again. What do you think?"_

_"I dunno know what all of the fuss is about." Raelle says. She had barely even looked at hers before she stuffed them away where it would never be touched again. "The only time people will see it is when you get blown up and they show it at your funeral."_

Tally places the ends of her fingers on the wood and closes her eyes. "I'm so sorry." She whispers. She hears the sounds of the first attendants arrive behind her and it's her cue to join Alder and the others. "I'm sorry."

The seats fill quickly. Glory, Byron, Adil, Augustin, and Clide give their silent goodbyes one by one at the table. Glory's eyes fall on Tally sadly when she walks by and Tally wishes nothing more than run over and hug her friend.

She watches as Petra Bellweather sits in the front row, her uniform perfectly starched and wrinkle free. The bags under her eyes and deep frown of her lips are the only evidence that she's mourning the loss of her one and only daughter. Other than that, she exerts nothing less than a stoic Bellweather.

Edwin Collar, on the other hand, is one of the few civilians in attendance. Tally had met him during their graduation day less than a week ago. Back then, he was all smiles and bright eyes identical to his daughter's. Today, in a slightly wrinkled black suit, his eyes are empty and dull and rimmed in the harsh red of a man who had lost everything good to him.

Where Petra had the support and comfort of her fellow Commanding Officers and other High Atlantics, Edwin was all alone to suffer in silence as he stared at the photo of his baby girl on that table.

What she wouldn't give to able to sit with him. To tell him the stories she had with Raelle. To let him know that she was loved fiercely. But Tally could do nothing to lessen his pain.

Tally watches as General Alder hands Petra a folded flag. "She died with honor." Petra is strong, but when the flag touches her skin, the tears begin and she bites her bottom lip hard.

_She died with honor._

But dying with honor doesn't change the fact that they are dead.

Alder passes Edwin a folded flag next. "She died with honor," she watches the General's lips move to repeat the same words.

The seats on either side of him are empty. The front few rows are meant for the parents of the fallen, as well as high ranked Officers and Sergeants, but none of them want to sit with a civilian in a world that shames civilian-witch relationships. It leaves a bile taste in Tally's mouth. Not only was Raelle a low class Cession girl, but she was a low class Cession girl with a _civilian_ father.

Tally should have been the one to give the speech. She was the one that knew Abigail and Raelle best. She was their sister. They were her _witches_.

But a High Atlantic steps forward instead, paper in hand to read a generic memorial speech. It's Treefine, the girl that Raelle knocked on her ass in Link training.

Tally watches as a final straggler walks down the middle isle to find a seat. To her surprise, the girl picks the seat to the right of Edwin. Perhaps she doesn't know who the front seats are meant for. She's dressed in civilian clothes, after all. She must not know the rules. Or maybe she's a friend of Raelle's from high school. Her dirty blonde hair frames her face and her green eyes are rimmed red just as Edwin's.

Treefine stands at the podium and gathers her papers neatly in front of her.

Tally stares at the girl sitting beside Raelle's father. She thinks she knows her, though she's never seen the civilian girl before. She furrows at the green eyes, which stare into the 2D blues of a once bright eyed cadet. Tally feels the girl's sadness. It's intense, like she's lost the most important person in the world. She feels the stranger's mourning, feels her heartbreak, lives in her emptiness. She's lost a love.

Tally realizes who the girl is just as Treefine begins her speech.

Scylla watches as a girl she's never met says rehearsed words for the fallen lives of Private Bellweather and Private Collar. She doesn't listen to anything that comes out of her mouth. Raelle had never spoke of this person to her before and Scylla has no care to listen to the empty words from a stranger. She gets the gist of it.

Two soldiers laid down their lives for the cause. They fought for the freedom of the American people and paid the ultimate price. They'll be remembered in the hearts of all who knew them. Yadda yadda yadda.

It was all bullshit.

They were sacrificed for a cause that Raelle admitted she sometimes questioned. They fought for the freedom of the American people, but not for the freedom of themselves. They paid the ultimate price at the cost of everyone who loved them.

When the girl finishes her nonsense, the people around her stop their feet. Her own feet stay planted. Edwin's don't move either. When she sat down, she looked to the man beside her and knew immediately that this was Raelle's father. His eyes were a steel blue to match the cloudy sky above them. The same shade Raelle's would be whenever she had been crying.

Scylla finds the corsage in the pocket of her dark coat and holds it tight.

Anacostia steps to the front now.

"Private Raelle Collar and Private Abigail Bellweather did not get along from the very beginning." She starts. "They were like oil and water. One was a wildfire and the other was a forest. As a High Atlantic and a country girl from the Cession, they were never destined to work well together. One of the first days in training, they had a fight together. A full on brawl in front of the other cadets. With no experience at all, the two of them had conjured up a storm in the rough room. Purely manifested from their emotions."

Anacostia smiles ever so slightly at the memory. "Together, even when they hated each other, they were a force to be reckoned with. As they grew individually, they grew as a unit. As time passed, I watched them argue and annoy each other. I also watched them transform into this _inseparable_ unit and become something more than a High Atlantic and a Cession. They became a family. They protected one another and fought together. In the end, two enemies became two sisters. Bonded by their sense to do what was right and never waver from their morals."

"They fought together and they gave their lives together. With storm and fury, just as Private Bellweather would say. They were selfless and there doesn't go a day where I don't think about their story." Anacostia's voice cracks at the very end and she stops to compose herself. "I had to teach them how to harness their powers, and the correct stance to have when using their Scourge. But Abigail Bellweather and Raelle Collar taught me so much more. And for that, I will forever be grateful to them."

The ground vibrates below Scylla once more as Anacostia takes her place away from the podium again. This continues through a few more people's speeches. Scylla waits for Tally to go up and speak, but she's nowhere to be found. General Alder is the last to go up and speak and Scylla tunes out every useless word that leaves her useless mouth.

She was the reason Raelle was gone. Her need for punishment by keeping them from War College when they deserved it the most. All because of her hunger for power that was long overdue to be placed elsewhere. Her disregard for anyone's advice or suggestions left her blind to the signs that the Camarilla had in fact returned and she went off half cocked, taking the Bellweather unit down along the way.

Scylla takes her hand out of her pocket, bringing the bird's skull with it. The skeleton is smooth under her fingers. Touching it makes her feel closer to Raelle, brings her back to that day under their tree. She closes her eyes as the item grounds her.

Today is not about Alder. Today is about Raelle and Abigail.

When the funeral is over, everyone stands and makes their way to their parked cars. Anacostia sees Edwin stand from his seat slowly, clutching the folded flag to his chest. Two flags to hang on the wall in a lonely house.

"Mr. Collar." Anacostia says as she approaches him.

"Sergeant Quartermaine." Edwin greets with a low and broken voice. They met during graduation. He was all proud praises and smile lines before. "It was beautiful. What you said." He allows a light chuckle from his lips. "I remember themphone calls we had about how much Abigail got under her skin."

The girl sitting beside Edwin's seat stands to leave. The stone of one of the bird's eyes glistens in the beam of sunlight through a crack in the clouds. Anacostia fights the urge to shove the corsage back into the girl's pocket before she gets found out.

Edwin turns just as she makes to leave. "Wait," he says, "I'd like to speak with you."

Anacostia sees the hard swallow and the small nod of her head. She stays put and waits. Edwin turns back to Raelle's Sergeant. Anacostia pulls something from her pocket and opens it to the older man. The Bowerbird's foot lies in her palm. Edwin stares at it.

"She took it off and gave it to a scared little boy to protect him. Just before…"

Edwin takes the charm and holds it in his hand. He sniffles and Anacostia waits quietly for him to say anything.

"Yeah…" he says. "That's my Rae. Takin' care of everyone 'round her. She was selfless like that."

"She was a very special person." Anacostia says. She places a hand on the man's shoulder. "She won't be forgotten. I promise you that."

"Thank you." His smile is nowhere near its potential, but it's sincere nonetheless.

When Anacostia leaves, his attention is back on the young girl beside him.

"You're Scylla." He states. Scylla stiffens and looks around her. Nobody is near enough to hear her name. When she looks back at him questioningly, he gestures to her hand. "She was so impatient to get them damned stones."

Scylla smiles sadly at those blue eyes.

* * *

"So Raelle comes sneakin' back inside in the middle of the night trackin' mud all through the house. Her mama nearly had a heart attack when she flipped the lights on and caught the girl grabbing food from the fridge. Covered in mud and blood head to toe at two in the mornin' on a school night an' she was still thinkin' about food."

Scylla laughs hard through a mouthful of pasta. Edwin cackles as the memory runs clear as a movie in his mind.

"Nooo, what happened??"

"She'd been out on the four wheeler with some of the other kids in the Cession, ridin' 'round in the mud. I guess the four wheeler flipped over with her on it and she hit her head on some pipe stickin' outta the ground. Sliced her face real bad, but she didn't care one bit. When her mama tried to fix it, she said she didn't want it. Said the scar would look badass as all hell."

"So that's how it happened." Scylla says. "I shouldn't have expected anything else from a rebel child."

Edwin chuckles. "She was definitely a handful."

Scylla takes a sip of her drink. The cold bitter beer burns her throat on the way down. She wasn't much of a beer drinker. It was such a nasty, dry drink that tasted like dirt. But when Edwin ordered an IPA for the two of them, she couldn't say no. 

She feels his eyes on her as she winces through another gulp. "You're not what I expected." He says.

"What do you mean?"

"When Rae described you in a letter, she said you had dark hair and eyes the color of _clear spring waters_."

The face Scylla took was of a blonde hair, green eyed girl she saw waiting at the bus stop earlier this morning. Nothing near what she looked like to prevent anyone from noticing. She hated that she had to be a different person to go to the funeral, but it was either that or don't attend.

"It's complicated." Scylla says, hoping the civilian wouldn't push further on the matter. Edwin looks at the girl for a few long beats, contemplating before he brings his beer to his lips.

"I do complicated." He says.

It brings a lump to her throat.

_"You a base brat?"_

_"My parents didn't serve."_

_"Oh. How'd that work out for them?"_

_"It's complicated."_

_"I do complicated."_

Scylla remembers the way Raelle had closed herself off in that moment. The way she turned her head when Scylla leaned in for a kiss, leaving her to peck her cheek. She couldn't tell Raelle the truth because she was scared of what she would think. Scared of being looked at differently.

The same feeling overtakes her now, as Edwin Collar sits across from her, arms on the table and eyes set on hers.

"I'm not…" she starts, thinking of how to say this. "supposed to be here. But if I look like someone else, they won't know."

Edwin nods his head, "I didn't know witches could do that."

"Well… It's not exactly allowed." Scylla holds her breath as she waits for his response.

To her surprise, he chuckles and brings his drink back to his lips.

"Leave it to my Rae to fall in love with more trouble. Gets it from her mama, that's for sure."

Scylla lets out a breath of a laugh, the tension she felt leaving with it.

They share many stories with each other and their time with Raelle. The space between them filled with memories and laughter and sadness and silent tears. When the second round of drinks comes, Edwin lifts his bottle in the air between the two of them.

"To Raelle." He says solemnly. "A woman of passion and fury. She loved hard and was loved harder."

Scylla brings her bottle to clink against his. She decided now that she did like beer.

"To Raelle."

* * *

Scylla enters the house and finds Willa sitting alone on the couch in the living room. When she spots Scylla, she stands hurriedly and impatiently waits for Scylla to tell her how the funeral had gone. Scylla only stands, eyes dark and glaring at the woman before her. At the Spree leader that left her husband and daughter without a second thought.

"How can you be a part of a people that kills civilians without even blinking when you have a civilian husband who so obviously loves you? Without him, you wouldn’t have had Raelle, and without Raelle, the world would have been duller and shittier than it was."

Willa stands dumbfounded as Scylla shouts relentlessly at her. Scylla knows she shouldn't be saying these things to a Spree leader, but she couldn't care any less in this moment. Maybe she'll regret it when the heat of the moment has cooled, but that's not the case now.

"She gave me another reason to live when I questioned why I was still here. The Spree gave me a place to put my pain, but she gave me a place to put my _hope_. I realize now that that part of her came from her dad. What part of her came from you? She sure as hell wasn't selfish and cowardly. Raelle deserved to know that her mother is alive. And so does your husband."

Scylla storms out of the house with the slam of the door. Inside, Willa drops to her knees in a fit of tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to contain much more than just a bunch of sadness and angst, but I specialize in angsty shit apparently, so here we are folks. I was all in my feels last night writing the Anacostia/Scylla scene and then when I got to the funeral, I started crying! Again! Dammit! I hope it got you all emotional too!
> 
> Leave me a comment! And hit the kudos while you're at it!
> 
> Check out my Tumblr @ gayassheda


	3. Cannon Fodder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> President Wade and General Alder have a talk. Anacostia is done with Scylla's shit. Tally tries to reason with Alder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My chapters are just getting longer and longer… Hmmm… I'm curious.. where is everyone from? Comment your countries or continents! Whatever you're comfortable with! 
> 
> Anyway, find me on Tumblr with your MFS questions or prompts @ Gayassheda !!

Sarah Alder is rarely nervous. Throughout all of her 327 years of living, she's barely felt the chill of nerves run up her spine and down her arms, but walking toward the figure sitting on the stone bench surrounded by colorful flowers did indeed bring her a sense of nervousness.

"Madame President," she says when she reaches her. President Wade stands and looks at Alder. She's as stone cold as the bench she was just seated in.

"Sarah Alder," Wade says like the sharp edge of a sword. "You should be in prison right now."

"Madame—" Alder starts, but the President cuts her off fiercely.

"You used an _illegal_ maneuver against the President of the United States on live television in order to give yourself power that I _strictly_ forbid. You think that just because you have your witch's powers that you can just do anything you want and everything will be okay, but that is not how this world works. I would have expected someone of your age to know that."

"I understand that what I did is a violation of the your Constitutional rights as well as prohibited by the Hague, but you must understand that—"

"I _must_ understand nothing, Sarah." The President steps closer to the General. " _You_ must understand that your actions come with consequences. And trust me when I say that _this_ will have extreme consequences." When she's done, she's standing only inches from Alder.

Neither woman budges from their position for over a minute. Against Alder's pride, she's the first one to move. She bows her head slightly. "It was a last minute judgement call, Madame President. It was absolutely uncalled for, I understand this. We needed to get the Tarim out before they were all killed, and we got them—"

"I know exactly what happened with the Tarim." Wade spits back. Her eyes are a blazing fire. "I know about the Camarilla. I know about the pile of bodies still lying in China." The President stops and looks around. She adjusts her blazer and takes a deep breath to calm herself and prepare for her next words. How agonizing they were going to be. "The only reason you are not in a prison cell for treason right now is because you are the only person who has ever dealt with the Camarilla before."

The President begins walking toward the White House now, and after a sigh of relief, Alder follows her.

"Thank you, Madame President."

"From what I've heard from you and others about the Tarim, and what the Camarilla are capable of doing now, it is a good thing that they were evacuated."

"The Tarim could be extremely beneficial to the Army with their songs." Alder explains. "With what they can do, we can snuff out the Camarilla and any future enemies quicker than ever done before."

When they make it to the steps of the large building, President Wade takes one step, two steps, stops, and turns to face the General. A head taller now, she looks down on Alder like a predator preparing to pounce on its prey.

"Make no mistake that you are not let off of the hook for your crimes, Sarah Alder. You put one toe out of line again, and you will be shipped to the Saint Dominique prison before your Biddies can help you out of it again. I hear that place is just _lovely_ for witches."

With a final and firm look, Wade turns around and climbs the steps to her body guards.

* * *

Anacostia knocks on the door numbered _127_. When no response is given, the rap of her knuckles comes again. The door swings open and a cold rush of air passes over her.

The room is draped in darkness, despite it being midday outside. By the covered balcony, Scylla sits in a chair, staring at the black television against the wall. There's a small round table in front of her, and the bird skull corsage is placed in the middle of it. As Anacostia nears her, she takes in the red border around her glazed over and distant blue eyes. Her brown hair is disheveled and her lips are dry and chapped.

"Hey," she says as she sits on the bed, "How are you holding up?"

Scylla slowly turns her head to look at the older woman. "I'm doing great," she says dully, her voice hoarse. "Went to Disneyland yesterday. Gonna fly out to Mexico in a few hours and vacation in Cancun."

"Okay," Anacostia sighs, "When was the last time you showered? Or brushed your teeth? Or ate?"

Scylla shrugs, "I was feeling nostalgic. Missed the chair."

"Scylla," Anacostia rolls her eyes. "Don't make me _make_ you shower."

Scylla stares back at the TV. "I could have been okay if she didn't ever want to talk to me again. That would have been fine. I would have accepted it. I can't accept that she's gone, Anacostia. I can't be okay with that."

Anacostia moves to kneel in front of her and takes her hands. She looks down at them and notices a red line in the shape of an S on her palm. Blood spots portions of the mark

"What is this?" she asks.

Scylla doesn't look, but she uses the index finger of her other hand to trace the red line. "It doesn't _feel_ like she's gone. I mean… it burned on that day, but since then it doesn't _feel_ like anything has changed. Is it supposed to?"

Anacostia shakes her head. Scylla had Linked them in a way she had never seen before and she didn't have an answer for her. Instead, she brings her own hand to cover the wound. When she removes her hand, the bleeding red mark is gone.

"Come on," she says, standing and bringing Scylla up along with her. "Let's get you cleaned up."

As Scylla showers and brushes her teeth, Anacostia opens the curtains and the sunlight fills the room. Room service brings up a BLT sandwich just as Scylla exits the bathroom fully clothed in something that's not her pajamas.

"Food is on the table." Anacostia says, "Eat. Bring your energy back up. You can't keep yourself locked up, Scylla. You need to keep living."

Scylla sits at the table and looks at the food in front of her. "I don't like tomatoes," she grumbles, picking off the offending fruit.

Scylla eats the sandwich in the warmth of the sun through the glass door as Anacostia waits.

"You didn't come here to check on how I was doing." Scylla says before licking her fingers. "Or did you? Are you my new mom now?"

"You're right," Anacostia says, ignoring Scylla's quip, as usual. "I came here to talk about the next step."

Scylla cocks her head in mock intrigue, "The next step for what exactly?"

"The next step to bring the Army and the Spree together."

Scylla lets out a sardonic laugh at the soldier sitting on the bed. "Why would I help with that? After the Army killed my parents, and then my girlfriend? You really have no idea what you're doing, do you, Quartermaine?"

"This is about much more than just you, Scylla." Anacostia grunts, rubbing her temples with her fingers. "With the Camarilla back, no witch is safe, do you understand? We can't be at war with each other _and_ with the Camarilla. It doesn't work like that. The Spree and the military need to form an alliance and get rid of the Camarilla before anything else can happen at this point."

Scylla lets out an exasperated breath and sets her mostly eaten sandwich back on the plate. "What do you expect me to do? I'm just cannon fodder that's failed the Spree on multiple occasions already. I have zero power to do anything."

"No," Anacostia says. "That's not entirely the case. Your relationship with Raelle gives you a relationship with her mom. She may listen to you."

At this, Scylla bellows out a laugh, like Anacostia has just told the most hilarious joke she's ever heard. "That's great," she says hysterically. "That's perfect! Yeah, her mom would absolutely listen to me after I called her a selfish coward."

"You did _what_?"

Scylla's smile is more of a careless grimace. She shrugs, "I don't like to lie anymore."

"Goddess, give me the strength with this child." Anacostia mumbles, squeezing at the bridge of her nose. "You need to figure something out. This could be our only opportunity, Scylla. Do you get that?"

"Oh, I get it," Scylla says. "But I don't exactly care anymore. Do you get _that_?"

Anacostia holds her breath to calm herself. The girl was willing to give up everything now. Anacostia couldn't let that happen, but Scylla was reluctant in her state. "I told you to hold on to the part of you that was good. Instead, you've let go of every part of you."

Scylla doesn't look at her. Her eyes stay locked on the skull beside the food she no longer wants to eat as she feels a wave of nausea when Anacostia heads for the exit. She grabs the doorknob, but stops just as she's about to open it.

"Edwin wants to see you." She adds, "I gave him this address. He’ll be here later tonight."

Then she's gone. And Scylla is alone.

* * *

Tally watches Alder sit at her desk in quiet contemplation. The room had been silent for hours now as the Biddies went about their wordless way, typing away at the typewriter, or playing chess, or even knitting. Everyone found something to do while Alder sat and debated, came to a conclusion, and decided against it, over and over again.

Unlike the other Biddies, Tally doesn't busy herself with useless work. She sits in the corner of the room watching Alder. Tally senses everything the General thinks and feels.

Search every building within a 50 mile radius of the base? No, that was pointless. Add bigger borders and more guards around Fort Salem? No, that would show fear.

She waited and waited for Alder to come to the decision that Tally had already determined to be the only reasonable way. She didn't _like_ the idea, but what other way was there?

"General," Tally starts, startling everyone around her. "May I say something?"

Sarah looks to the new Biddy as though she had just spoke in a different language. "What is it, my daughter?"

"There is one option that you haven't thought about yet." Tally stands from her seat and places herself at the end of the desk in front of Alder. With a gesture to the leather seat, Tally drops herself down to eye level with the woman. "The Camarilla are strong and methodical and I fear that if they do ever decide to attack Fort Salem, like you've been thinking for the past hour, they will have recruited so many new members by then. A lot of cadets will die without the experience, and so will a lot of well trained soldiers."

"Go on." Alder says with a sip of her whiskey filled glass. It's the first time a Biddy has ever spoken up and given their own advice, but it's not a surprise to Alder that _this_ Biddy—Tally—would not be like the others.

"They're using our own songs against us," she continues. "They're killing witches and taking their voices, and they will keep doing this until we do something about it."

"That is what I am trying to figure out, Tally. What is your point?"

"I think…" she drifts off as she decides the right way to say what she wants; she's nervous. "I think that we should consider a truce with the Spree."

"Excuse me?" Alder brings her glass to her desk with a bang, and the Biddies around her hiss loudly. Tally feels the rage from everyone, but she ignores them all.

"We have to think about the numbers, General." Tally explains. "The Army is big, yes, but we don't know how many members of the Camarilla there are, and we don't know how fast their numbers are growing. Being a separated witch nation will do nothing but hurt us—"

"This is ridiculous," Alder waves the suggestion away.

"General, please. Listen to me." Tally blurts on, "With the Spree numbers on our side, this could—"

"Enough!" Alder shoots up from her seat and the Biddies hiss louder. "The United States Army does not work with _terrorists_. A truce with the Spree is out of the question. I will not hear any more of this absurd idea, do you hear me?"

Tally holds her tongue. Alder was furious at the idea and there was no use pushing it at this time. She had to open Sarah's eyes to the inevitable, but it was going to have to be a slow build up.

* * *

Edwin smiles when Scylla swings the door open for him.

"Wow, I finally get to meet the real you!" he exclaims when he sees her. He holds her at arms length and steadies her in front of him to get a better look. "Yep, definitely some springy eyes ya got there."

Scylla laughs brightly and he pulls her in for a hug. It's odd, Scylla thinks, to be hugging a man she's only met one other time just a couple of days ago, but he felt like comfort and warmth.

"Please, come in." Scylla says, pulling him into the artificially lit room. The sun outside is setting and the sky is dark shades of blues and oranges.

"I brought a little somethin'," Edwin says, showing off a six pack of beer and toothy grin. Scylla raises an eyebrow with a smile. she laughs.

"And now it's a party."

Edwin sets the beer down on the table and pulls two out of their individual cardboard place holders. With the swift pop of the caps against the edge of the table, he hands a bottle to Scylla, who takes it with a thankful smile and allows the cold drink to warm her insides. This beer was far more acceptably tasteful for Scylla than the IPA of the other day.

"I would have cooked for you, but the kitchen is a bit…" she looks around the hotel room, "Nonexistent. So I ordered Chinese food. It should be here any minute."

"So you cook then?" Edwin asks.

Scylla hums her answer with another sip, "If you count Hamburger Helper as cooking, then yes. I cook."

"Well, that's still more than Raelle," he chuckles. Hearing her name makes Scylla's stomach flip like a pancake. "She once burned a pot black tryna make macaroni 'n' cheese."

"Oh my Goddess, no," Scylla marvels. "Did she leave halfway through cooking it?"

"Somethin' like that." Edwin says after a swig of his drink. "She went to her room to heal one of the neighbors. It took longer than she expected, and by the time I came home from work, the fire alarm was on an' the whole house was full of smoke."

There's a knock at the door and Scylla takes the brown paper bag of food from the delivery boy.

"How much is it?" she asks him.

"32.62, ma'am." The teenager responds.

Scylla smiles, pulls the white receipt stapled to the bag off, and hands it back to him. He gives her confused look.

"Here you go," she says to him. "Keep the change."

The boy's confusion turns into a smile and a, "Thank you, have a nice day," and he walks off.

"Alright, so what didja get us then?" Edwin pulls each item out of the bag and onto the dresser under the wall mounted TV. "Alright, we've got good taste, I see," he says. He points a fork at her and with a toothy grin, he says, "I knew there was somethin' I liked about ya."

"It wasn't my unlimited charm that did it for you?" Scylla plops herself down on the bed with a paper plate of orange chicken and white rice.

Edwin chuckles, "That must be how you got my girl." His bright blue eyes look at her and she sees so much of Raelle in them. "That an' your sass. You musta given her a run for her money."

The two of them eat and converse while Jeopardy plays in low volume on the TV. The conversation shifts from solely Raelle, to Cession life and living as a witch/civilian family. Scylla takes in every word Edwin says about the discrimination every single one of them had to endure just to be happy together.

"It was hard," he tells her. "We got civilians that think witches should stay with their own kind, and we got witches that think the same thing. Willa was deployed nonstop to the front lines jus' cuz she married me, and I was laid off of plenty of jobs when they found out my wife was a witch. Raelle got into fights at school cuz of the things the other students would say. Willa wanted to homeschool her, but Raelle said she could handle it."

"But there are always the extremes of all sides. Those are the people that get noticed the most cuz, well… they're extreme. But there are also good people on either side too. Not all witches think civilians are horrible, obviously. And not all civilians are terrified of witches."

Scylla takes in all of this as he washes down a bite of low mein with beer. "What do you think of Conscription?" she asks before she can stop herself. The beer was getting to her.

"What do I think of Conscription," he huffs. There's a hint of anger in his voice now, "So many witch blood lines have died cuz of Conscription. Raelle died because of Conscription."

The two of them sit with a sense of sadness between them. Edwin's hand moves to take the skull that still rests on the table.

"This is beautiful," he says. "She was always real good with her hands. Woulda made a good mechanic, like her pop."

"She was," Scylla agrees, looking at the corsage as well. At this, Edwin looks at her knowingly, a dorky smirk on his lips and it hits Scylla. "Goddess, I didn't mean it like that!"

Edwin's body shakes in a silent laugh. "She really did love you, Scylla."

Scylla feels a tear drip from her eye and she whispers, "She shouldn't have." Edwin frowns at her. "I hurt her," she continues, looking down at the bottle in her hands. "I lied to her and I broke her heart. She didn't want anything to do with me in the end."

Edwin sighs and leans back in his seat. "I heard." He says. Scylla looks up at him with a trembling chin and sad eyes. "When I met Willa, she didn't tell me she was witch until _six months_ in. When I found out, I was pissed. Not cuz she was a witch, but cuz she didn't tell me sooner. She said she was scared that I'd run off. Now, I dunno what happened between you two, but I do know that she still loved you even after things went south. I had faith that you two'd work it out. I wish you got that chance."

Scylla wipes at her cheeks with the back of her hand and gulps down the rest of her beer. "I wish we did, too."

"I'm goin' back home tomorrow." Edwin says, hours later when he's about to leave. He's at the door with leftovers in his hand. The Uber waits in the parking lot. "I'm glad I got to see you one more time, kiddo. But listen, if you ever need a place to stay, the Cession is always open. Don' be a stranger."

Scylla hugs him one last time. He's warm and she listens to his heart beat through his shirt. If she closes her eyes, she can imagine those arms are from a different Collar family member. "I won't be." She says.

* * *

Scylla walks into her dark room in the Spree house and stops mid-step when she spots Willa Collar sitting on her bed. She doesn't look up from the sheet of paper in her hands. Scylla cautiously steps further into the room.

"When I was five, my mother was killed in a firefight in the deserts of Egypt." Her voice is low but clear. "When I was 17, my sister was killed in Lithuania. I was alone and I didn't wanna to join the Army. I wanted to be an actress. I met Edwin when I was 19. The same age as you. We fell in love, got married, had a beautiful daughter."

Scylla stands close to her now. The paper in her hand is a slightly blurred photo of her, Edwin, and a very young Raelle. Raelle is laughing, smile ear to ear as Edwin lifts her in the air. Willa makes a funny face up at her daughter with her arms wrapped around her husband.

"Conscription is the worst thing to happen to witches after the stoning days." Willa continues, "I wanted nothin' more than for it to end before Raelle turned 18. I didn't think it was possible, but the Spree…" she lets out a heavy sigh. "The Spree showed me how possible it was. I don't agree with everything that goes on within the Spree. I don't believe that witches are the higher race. I don't take part in that kinda thing. I love Raelle's father and that will never change. I left them to think I was dead to protect them."

Scylla sits beside Willa on the bed. In the moonlight, Willa's tears glisten like tiny crystals, leaving jeweled drops on the photo between her fingers.

"I thought I was protecting her. I would give _anything_ to have them back. I would switch places with Raelle in a heartbeat if I could. I would face the most painful of deaths if it meant she was sitting here with you, instead of me."

Scylla finds herself resting a comforting hand on the older woman's shoulder.

"I'd give my life to bring her back, too." Scylla whispers.

She clutches the skull in her pocket.

* * *

Raelle has no idea how long she and Abigail have been walking. She's watched the sun fall and the moon rise enough times to lose count. Was it three? Five? Ten days? It couldn't have been too long, they were still alive. They hadn't eaten since the MREs they had before finding the Tarim. _Hungry, dehydrated, tired._ They kept going. At first, they thought they would perhaps come across the base Adil had carried Khalida to, but they didn't know where it was located, and they obviously had gone the wrong way.

"We can do this, Collar." Abigail mumbles, almost incomprehensive to the girl beside her whose feet drag so deep into the sand that it spilled into her boots.

"I don' think so, Bells." Raelle manages through broken and bleeding lips. "I don' think we're gonna get outta this…"

"We have t' try." Abigail thinks she's yelling this with intent and drive, but it barely comes out and Raelle doesn't even hear it. "Until.. our last breath… We have t' fight…"

Raelle's foot catches on a small bump of sand and she collapses to the ground. Mouth full of sand, she closes her eyes and lets the world take her.

"Get up, Collar," Abigail heaves as she drops to her knees beside her sister. "Get the hell up." With all of her strength, she rolls the blonde onto her back. The sun is high in the air and it melts away at Raelle's burned skin.

Raelle moves her head like a pendulum. Her dry eyes flutter open and closed.

_Open. Close. Open. Close._

"'m done, Bells." She coughs.

Abigail's body is heavy. No matter how much she wants to get up and keep going, her body droops lower and lower until her head is on Raelle's chest. She wants to cry, but nothing comes out. She wants to scream, but her throat aches for water it won't get. She wants to see her mother again. To see Adil again. But that would not happen. Not anymore.

"Can y' believe…" Raelle croaks. "We survived bein' stabbed.. jus' to died anyway…"

Abigail looks at Raelle. Aside from her chin, she can see one open eye. She can see one clear crystal iris look to the desert sky. She can see the sand covered eyelashes lift and drop.

_Open. Close. Open. Close._

Her head falls and rises to the shortened breathing of girl below her.

_Open. Close. Open. Close._

"I love you too…" Raelle mumbles.

_Open. Close._

_Open._

"High an' Mighty."

_Close._

"Raelle…" Abigail gulps. " _Raelle._ " She pats the girl's chest weakly.  
  
She closes her own eyes.

When she opens them again, there's something moving ahead of her. Abigail fights to focus her vision past Raelle's head, but her eyes burn too much to see clearly and her body hurts too much to move.

"Rae," she calls feebly. "Rae… What is that?" she reaches her hand to Raelle's face and slaps it. Raelle grumbles. "Collar. Wake up."

Raelle's weighted eyelids pry open and she follows the pointing finger of Abigail. She stretches her head back, digging her hair into the sand further until it's in her sight.

Upside down, but clear as the day itself, a white wall rises from the sand. Raelle blinks her eyes hard to better her vision.

No, it's not a white wall.

"Tha's the mushroom wall…" she breathes. "From th' Necro facility."

"Necro facility?" Abigail repeats, lifting her head finally.

"Are we dead?" Raelle asks.

With every bit of strength she can muster, Abigail pushes herself off of Raelle and wobbles to her feet. The wall is at least seven feet high and just feet from where Raelle lies.

"Get up," Abigail says again. This time, she reaches down and grabs Raelle's forearm, giving her no option but to oblige. Or try, at least.

She stumbles to her feet, but drops to her knees immediately, not enough energy in her to stand on her own. Abigail pulls her up with all her might and drapes the girl's arm around her shoulders. "Come on, Collar!" she finds her voice.

She drags the shorter unit member with her until they're standing face to wall. Her knees tremble from the weight, but she somehow stays upright.

"Nothing else to lose, is there?"

She steps into the wall.

A cold sensation covers them, seeps into their blood and bones. It only lasts a second, and in the next, they fall to the ground. The air is musty and humid and the ground against Abigail's cheek is cold and hard. She looks at her surroundings. The walls around them are the same stone as the ground below her, and there's an open door just in front of them.

The Necro facility.

"Raelle," she breathes. "We made it." She tries for a laugh but her throat is too dry. Raelle doesn't say anything.

"Raelle?" she repeats. She looks at the blonde still lying on the ground unmoving. She pushes her limp body. Nothing. "Raelle. Raelle, get the hell up. Help!" the yell rips through her through and she swears she tastes blood now. "Somebody help!"

It's the last bit of anything she sees before she collapses beside her friend. She hears footsteps come closer and closer. She sees a blur of white and pair of brown eyes before everything goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is how I think Raelle and Abigail are going to make it back to Fort Salem in season. I fee like this can be the only way! So I'm calling it now and if I'm right and this happens in the show, y'all make sure to spam the hell out of the MFS writers and Eliot and tell them to ADD ME TO THE TEAM.
> 
> Anyway, how'd you like this chapter? It's funny because when I started writing the previous chapter, I had no intention of Scylla and Edwin meeting. She was going to sit in the back and then leave. But as I was writing it, I changed my mind. And then I decided to add another scene of them for this chapter cuz I know some of you really liked it and I think Scylla needed Edwin around to really show her that not all civilians suck.
> 
> My political writing sucks and will probably not get better, so hopefully we can just.. You know.. Ignore that. I had President Wade "let her off the hook but not really" with the whole puppeting thing only because she realizes that no one has ever went up against the Camarilla before except for her. Otherwise Gen. Alder would be locked up.
> 
> Writing Raelle and Abigail's part of this was my favorite!!!! I loved slowly killing them, it was just so much fun! How cool is that?? *eye twitches* I'm not crazy! Really though, I had a blast writing the two of them basically giving up and accepting death (mostly Raelle) and then getting that "wtf is that? Fuck it, let's just walk through it" and finally making it to the rest of the story. So don't worry, you'll see more of them from now on!
> 
> Will we get a Raylla encounter next chapter? *taps fingers together*


	4. Seed Sound Zero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raelle and Abigail wake up, and everyone has a reaction. Scylla's mission is back. Scylla and Raelle come face to face. (I'm so great as summaries aren't I?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW. This chapter is 7,350 words! That's around twice as long as what I've been trying to write in! Yikes! I hope you guys like it, though!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr @ Gayassheda !! Send me some prompts on there that I might put up here, or just shoot me a question about the show, idk. Anyway, here ya go!

When Raelle wakes up, she's in a small bed in a large room. She lifts her head, expecting it to be just as weak as the last time she regained consciousness in the sand. It's not so bad. There are beds lining the wall she lies against and beds lining the wall in front of her. The room smells of a pine, lemons, and a hint of blood.

She's in the Fort Salem infirmary.

In the bed beside her sits Abigail eating something from a silver tray.

"Bells?" Raelle groans. Her throat doesn't feel like it's being ripped apart from the inside out anymore, but it's still painfully dry and sore. 

Abigail pauses mid bite and looks at her friend, "Morning, sunshine. Took you long enough."

"How'd we get back?" Raelle asks, pushing herself up to mirror Abigail. Her muscles still ache and she whines.

Through a mouthful of grapes, Abigail slushes, "The mushroom wall. It was like some weird Necro back door to Fort Salem."

Raelle closes her eyes and an image of the wall growing above her head as she lie dying fills her mind.

"Would've been nice if it did it sooner, though." Abigail stretches her neck and a loud _pop_ sounds.

"Are you really complainin'?" Raelle says, watching her take a bite of bread. Her stomach is a starving wolf, growling ferociously and threatening to rip out of her.

Abigail takes her cup of water from the tray and leans between the two beds, stretching it towards the blonde. "They may have fixed us as much as they could, but they can't keep us from being hungry and thirsty. Drink slow," Raelle takes the cup from her hand. "Go too fast and you'll throw it all back up. They should be in here any minute with food for you now that you're awake."

It's hard for Raelle not to chug down the entire cup of cold water, but she takes it slowly. The first stream soothes her throat like a numbing salve and she moans in relief. Abigail chuckles, "Same, cousin. Same."

"I'm not your cousin," Raelle says. She faces Abigail, whose brows pull inward slightly. Raelle gives her a small smile, "I'm your _sister_."

The smile that spreads across Abigail's face is warm. "You shitbird." This gets a huff of a laugh from the other witch.

The door to the room opens and Colonel Wick walks in with a tray of food. "You're awake!" she greets sweetly. "Welcome back, Private Collar. How are we feeling?"

Raelle opens and closes her dry mouth and grimaces, "I'll manage."

"Yes, of course," Wick says. "This will help," she sets the food on Raelle lap, "Just be slow about it."

The Fixer brings her attention to Abigail and does a check on the girl.

"You ladies are _very_ lucky." She says before leaving the room. Before the two patients get the chance to talk again, the door swings open once more.

Alder steps in, followed by the Biddies. She stands straight and confident just feet away from Raelle's bed and turns her head to the side. With a nod, someone behind her moves forward in a blur. Tally kneels between the two beds and starts bawling, one hand stretched to Abigail's bed and the other for Raelle's arm.

"Tal," Raelle hushes, squeezing the aged teenager's wrinkled hand comfortingly. "Tal, s'okay."

"I thought you were dead," she sobs. "I thought I'd lost you two."

"Yeah, we thought so too." Abigail says, rubbing gentle circles on her wrist with her thumb. "But we're here. We're fine."

Tally nods her head, despite the raining tears still flowing down. Raelle smirks, "God, Tal, you look so old now. We were really gone that long?"

At this, Tally lets out a laugh. "I've missed you guys."

There's a clearing of a throat and Tally attempts to compose herself. She sniffles, and with a final squeeze of each hand, she stands back up and moves behind Alder.

"Soldiers," Alder says with a smile. "It is so great to have you back. I am afraid we did bury you earlier this week, though. I'm sure talk of your resurrections are now spreading through the base like wildfire."

The door to the hospital once again bursts open and in comes Anacostia and Izadora. They pause when they see Alder, but with another nod from the General, they continue forward to the girls in bed. Izadora holds a clipboard in her hand and waits with excited eyes on Raelle.

"You two showed outstanding bravery on the field," Alder continues. "What you did together was phenomenal, and I must ask―"

"We don't know what happened." Raelle cuts her off, sensing where she was headed with this conversation. "No idea what, or how, or why it happened. We can't help you with that, General. Sorry." The apology sounds anything but apologetic. She's been awake for a whole 10 minutes and Alder is already trying to dissect them for information?

Alder hesitates and Raelle sees the fight in her eyes to push on. Instead, she gives them another smile, "Yes, of course. I'm sure you're very tired, and hungry as well. We can continue this later."

"Maybe we can talk about a way for you to give us back our third unit member in that same future conversation." Raelle shoots back. Tally stiffens behind Alder.

"I'm sorry Private Collar, but that's not how it works." Alder says. Without any hesitation, she brings her arms up welcomingly. "I'd like to formally welcome you both to War College. After what you've done and the potential you've shown, you are more than deserving." She looks to Anacostia and Izadora and bows her head to them politely before leaving. Tally and the Biddies following her out.

With just the four of them in the room now, Anacostia looks to either girl, her look soft, but her expression just as stoic and drill sergeant-esque as always. "It's good to have you privates back."

Abigail smiles sloppily back, "We missed you too, Sergeant Quartermaine."

"Don't put words in my mouth, Bellweather."

"You came back through the Mycelium wall," Izadora says, ignoring the almost sentimental moment and getting straight to the point. Her serious look falls on Raelle, who shoves most of a loaf of bread in her mouth. "You said you didn't touch it, Private Collar."

With her mouth at full capacity and bread poking past her chapped lips, she lifts her shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. "Oops," she mumbles and crumbs fall to her lap.

Anacostia shakes her head at the blonde. "Goddess, give me the strength." She mumbles.

"I'd like to run some tests, if that's fine." Izadora says, stepping closer. She pulls a syringe into view from behind the clipboard. "Just a little blood is all I need."

"I already had some skin taken from the finger I touched it with." Raelle says. Her shows her finger, but instead of a necrotic flaky and oozing mess, it's smooth and clean, as though it was never there to gross out everyone who saw it. "Okay, it's not there anymore, but it was."

"It'll just be a little bit." Izadora says again.

Raelle looks to Anacostia, and with the nod of approval from her, she allows the Necro teacher to take what she needs. She does the same with Abigail, pulling out another syringe and drawing blood from her arm.

"You're telling me that no one has ever touched this Mycelium wall thing before me?" Raelle finds this hard to believe.

"No, people have touched the wall before." Izadora says as she writes something on her clipboard. They wait, but she doesn't say anything more.

"And…?" Abigail pushes.

Izadora looks between the two, "And they all died within days of contact."

 _"Died?"_ Raelle repeats. "Are we gonna die? Again?"

"Well, seeing as that's happened already and the Mycelium brought you _back_ , I would say it's safe to say that's not case this time. It is odd, though." Izadora's dark brows come together. "It slowly eats its host alive before it grows out of them. But this time, it kept its host alive. It's curious."

"Yeah…" Abigail agrees sarcastically, "Very curious. I'd very much like to not wake up to Raelle as a mushroom house, thank you."

"From what I hear, Bellweather," Anacostia interjects. "It saved you too."

"Wha…" Abigail looks between the three completely different emotions shown on the witch's faces. "Are you saying that I'm a human-eating giant mushroom wall's host now too?"

"As I said, Private Bellweather," Izadora seems completely relaxed, but Raelle remembers just how skillfully she lied when telling her that Scylla was dead. "It doesn't seem to be doing that with Raelle. And nothing is certain until we run some tests."

"Relax, soldiers," Anacostia says. "Eat up, get that energy back, and don't worry about anything before we know what's going on. And take a shower. You two look like piles of hot garbage. And you smell like it, too."

Raelle nods her head, bringing her attention back to the fruits on her plate. She should definitely be a bit more concerned about the weird link she suddenly has with the fungus of death, but she's just as unfazed as when it was growing on her finger before Byron told her to get it checked.

Anacostia and Izadora leave for the door. "Oh, and Collar," Anacostia says before disappearing. Raelle almost groans at the repeated interruptions. "Someone is here to see you."

As the two instructors leave, another body walks in.

"Hey, Sport." Edwin's beaming smile rushes to the edge of Raelle's bed.

"Hey, pops," Raelle leans sideways as her father wraps her in a tight hug. He holds onto her for much longer than a normal hug and Raelle doesn't resist. After what they've both been through, they needed it. She hears the way he tries to hide his sniffling and she buries her face into the crook of his neck, taking in the smell of home: Cession South, burning wood, and a gallon of alcohol. "I've missed you."

Edwin finally pulls back, but doesn't let go of her shoulders. His eyes glint through the clear layer of wetness. "I missed ya too, Rae. Don't you dare do that to me again, ya hear?"

Raelle feels her throat closing around the frog trapped inside as she tries not to break down in front of her father and Abigail. "I promise," she manages with a deep throaty voice.

"Here," Edwin says, dropping one of his hands to his jacket pocket and bringing out the Bowerbird's foot charm. "I don't know if this is good luck or bad luck anymore."

"It's good." Raelle says, watching as he drops it onto her open palm. "Protected the kid, right? It's good luck."

"Next time, save us all the trouble and don't take that thing off." Abigail says behind her.

Raelle rolls her eyes halfheartedly, "Dad, this is Abigail."

Edwin walks to Abigail's bed, standing between her and his daughter now, and takes her hand in a soft and sincere shake with a smile to match. "Abigail Bellweather," he addresses. "You tried to save my girl at the risk of your own life. I will forever be grateful."

"It's nice to finally meet the man behind the girl, Mr. Collar." Abigail smirks.

Edwin brings up a chair to sit between the two girls and they talk for nearly half an hour before the Colonel Wade returns and suggests her two patients get more rest.

"My flight was supposed to be today, but I'll stay for a couple more days now that you're back." Edwin says, taking Raelle's hand in his big one.

"I'm sorry you had to take to time off from work to come here, pops. Tell Lucile I'll send her some things for that knee o' hers, long as she gives you the money before bills are due."

"Nonsense," her pop dismisses with a wave. "I got to meet that girl o' yours."

"That girl o' mine?" Raelle repeats questioningly with the quirk of a brow.

"Scylla." Edwin says.

Raelle stares blankly at her father, her lips parted slightly. She blinks a few times and her eyebrows curve close together. "You saw Scylla?"

Edwin nods, "Came to your funeral. And I went to see her last night too. I dunno know what exactly happened 'tween you two," he frowns. "But she was real torn apart at your death, kiddo. She loves ya like I loved your mother. Don't let that one go."

The Fixer comes back in and shoos Edwin out of the room. Raelle and Abigail look at each other in absolute confusion.

* * *

It's late in the afternoon and Scylla is walking down a street a few blocks from the Spree cell. The sun blazes between white clouds, bringing shade with it every few minutes or so. The air is fresh, the breeze blows lightly, and the town is scattered with pedestrians taking in its beauty. Scylla sees a couple sitting at an outside table of a small coffee shop, holding hands from across the table and laughing like they're the only two people in the world. 

Scylla's heart aches.

Her hand automatically finds the charm hooked to the loop of her jeans to steady herself. Coming outside was supposed to help her, to ease her and distract her from her sorrows, to bring her to a safe space of mind for as long as the walk allowed. While it did work just slightly, she realizes that her safe space was exactly who she's trying to avoid thinking about. The moment Raelle turned around in front of that gate and away from the second years singing their powerful tornados to bring beautiful destruction to the earth, Scylla was doomed to find her home in those piercing blue eyes. She was destined to find her safe space in the heart of an unsuspecting Cession girl, and now everywhere she looked, all she could see was Raelle. In a place they never even imagined they'd walk through, everything still reminds her of the girl that could have blessed this town with all of her youth, and beauty, and fury.

_"Be careful out here, Scylla."_

Anacostia had warned her about the Camarilla. Warned her to stay vigilant or indoors. Scylla scoffs.

"Do you just ignore everything I tell you?" Scylla almost jumps out of her skin at the voice right behind her. Anacostia jogs to Scylla's side, wearing workout clothes once again.

"Christ," Scylla breathes, clenching her chest. "Don't you have cadets to annoy?"

"It's Saturday," Anacostia points out. "Day off. I should be doing some things there, though, after what happened last night."

Scylla sighs, "I would ask what happened, but I don't actually care."

"Oh," Anacostia says, still jogging beside a walking Scylla. "I think you want to know this one. It's about Raelle."

Scylla clenches and unclenches her jaw and stops, turns, and glares at Anacostia. "What is it, Sergeant?"

"She's alive, Scylla." Anacostia says with a knowing smile.

Scylla's face goes through all human emotions in the span of about two seconds before it lands on distrust. "You're lying…"

Anacostia shakes her head, "This time I'm happy to say that I'm not lying. Scylla," she grounds Scylla with her strong and reassuring gaze. _"She's alive."_

Scylla is at a loss of words and doesn't know how to react. "H-how? How is th-that possible? Are you serious?"

"I don't know how to explain it," Anacostia says, straightening up again and shrugging. "I really don't. And neither does she―"

 _"You've talked to her??"_ Scylla almost cries. Her feet are starting to wobble as her hand trembles just an inch from her face.

"She's awake, yes." Anacostia assures. "She's still weak, but she'll be okay." _They hope._

As if the strings keeping her upright and composed snap, Scylla collapses to her knees in a fit of tears. Unlike for the past 5 days, these tears are not full of mourning and sorrow and self hate. The salted water that falls to the sidewalk between her feet this time glisten with relief and hope and everything she imagined she'd never feel again.

In front of a bike store and a small town version of a Panera Bread, Scylla shamelessly cries. Anacostia stands awkwardly in front of the kneeling girl, avoiding the eyes of at least ten civilians on them and choosing to watch the newest cloud cover the bright sun.

When Scylla stands again, there's a bright smile contradicting her glossy and red eyes. "Does Edwin know yet?" she asks through a relieved laugh.

Anacostia nods, "Yes. He was with her when I left."

"I want to see her." She says, sucking in fresh air and trying unsuccessfully to sound demanding.

Anacostia cracks her head to the side. "That's easier said than done, Scylla. You know that."

"I don't have to speak to her. I get that she probably doesn't want to talk to me or see me ever again." Scylla says, pacing in front of the sergeant now. "But I just want to _see_ her. I want to see for myself."

Anacostia mulls the idea over. "If I give you this, I need something from you too."

"Yes," she waves impatiently. "Yes, anything, sure."

"Okay," Anacostia says, looking at the watch strapped to her wrist. "I need to leave. I'll figure something out. In the mean time, we need a better way to talk. I can't keep leaving post to see you every time." She moves to leave, but looks once more at Scylla. "You'll tell me what they want you to do."

It's not a question, but Scylla nods her head yes anyway.

* * *

Raelle throws herself on the bed with a thud and a wince. She's still hurting a lot, but that's expected. The feeling of her lumpy pillow under her head is enough to almost put her back to sleep, but Abigail's voice across the room shuts the idea down.

"It doesn't feel the same," she says. She's sitting on her lone bed, still fully dressed in her sand and muck covered uniform. Her hair looks like a bird's nest, and Raelle is confident she looks no different.

She then realizes that they should have showered before getting in bed, because now they'll have to wash their sheets too.

Abigail is looking at the top bunk. Tally's bunk. Raelle looks up to the bottom of the bed above her. She's brought back to the nights when she couldn't sleep, when she would poke Tally's mattress through the wire bed spring until Tally would fling her pillow down and hit her.

_Raelle wakes up to darkness, covered in a film of sweat and catching her breath. She's burning up and uncomfortable and she almost screams when her eyes adjust to see fiery hair and the whites of wide eyes dangling down from the top bunk._

_"Tal, what the hell?" she startles._

_Tally's wide and toothy grin is upside down, "You were having a dirty dream."_

_"Oh my Go—"_

_"Was it about Scylla?" Tally's excitement over Raelle's R-rated dream is disconcerting to the blonde. How long had she been watching a sleeping Raelle shift and tumble in her sleep?_

_"Oh my God, how long have you been watching me?"_

_"I just looked down, don't be weird about it." Tally defends. "You're the one that woke me up with your horny moaning."_

_"Oh my God, stop!" Raelle hisses._

_"Yes, please, shut the hell up. Both of you." Abigail groans from the other side of the room. "Talk about Raelle's weird Necro sex dream in the morning."_

_Tally disappears back in her bed and Raelle pokes the bottom her mattress hard enough for Tally to giggle._

"It won't be the same." Raelle rolls to her side to look back at her unit member. "It'll never be the same again, Abigail."

"You think there's a seed sound for turning back time?"

"We could always make one ourselves."

Abigail snorts, "A shitbird like you invent a new seed sound?"

"Hey," Raelle playfully scolds. "This shitbird brought you back to life."

"And you're never gonna to let me live it down, are you?" Abigail retorts. The two laugh casually together.

"Not on your life."

Raelle rolls onto her back again as the laughter dies down quickly and a heavy silence falls between them. She feels a hole in her chest just as big as the hole in the conversation. The hole that would have been filled by a certain happy witch.

_"You guys don' even know how special you are." Tally says one night as they sit together with Glory and Libba, drinking vodka and Sprite from their solo cups. "You two are the best unit I coulda ever imagined having."_

"These two?" _Libba points from Abigail to Raelle back to Abigail and snorts, "These two fight like The Army and the Spree! I don't know how you manage to deal with them and still be so happy, Craven."_

_"Libba, you jus' don't und'rstand," the drunken slur brings wide smiles to the people in the room. "You put these two together and magic happens, 'kay? It's crazy!" Tally jolts up from Raelle's bed and jumps up and down, spilling a bit of her drink onto the hard wood floor. "You remember that storm they almost made in the gym jus' from fighting! And just the other day they were ar-arguing about Raelle's booty call always making her late f'r third bell—"_

_"Not a booty call." Raelle interjects. Tally ignores her and keeps going._

_"And they shattered the windows!" Tally spins with her arms pointing around the room at the windows with brand new glass in them. "'magine what they can do when they're finally bonded."_

_"Yeah," Libba leans into her knees in her spot on the floor and wiggles her eyebrows teasingly. "Imagine what they could do after their first time together."_

_"See, this is why we shouldn't be inviting a Swythe to a good time." Abigail says after a sip from her solo cup. "Even the thought of her is bile, now we have to listen to her garbage too."_

_"It's a break from listening to the big balloon of hot air getting deflated that is a Bedwetter like you, Drabigail." Libba retorts without a skip of a beat._

"Anyway," _Tally continues. "I'm so glad to have the pleasure to be a part of this unit."_

_"Until they tornado you out of the window because someone stole someone else's socks."_

"What would you do differently?" Abigail says, bringing Raelle back out of her memories.

"Hmm?" Raelle hums.

"If you _could_ go back. Where would you go back to?"

Raelle thinks. There are so many things she could go back and fix. She could stop her mom from going on that last deployment. She could go back and stop Scylla from killing Porter. She could do something about the witnesses in the truck. She could save Libba. She could stop them from telling Petra about Scylla's capture. They could have graduated and gone straight to War College; avoided dying, and Tally could be lying on her bed talking about how Gerit broke her heart.

She could go back to the day she skipped training to watch the tornados twirl their destruction, and stayed to practice with her unit instead. She could have stopped herself from ever meeting Scylla.

She could go back to the day Anacostia had told her Scylla wanted to see her one last time. The encounter could have gone differently.

_"I loved you."_

_"I still love you."_

_"They're shipping me off to die."_

_"Well we all go some time."_

_"I'm sorry we ever met, Scyl."_

_"I chose you instead of them."_

_"Please."_

Raelle wipes at her eye quickly before the unwanted tear releases itself.

"I think I'd go back to City Drop." Raelle says with a forced chuckle. "And I'd stay away from that damned booby-trapped car."

Abigail doesn't say anything for a moment and Raelle looks at her, waiting for her answer. "I'd go back to the wedding," she says quietly. "I wouldn't leave Charvel's side. I'd know what was coming and I would be better prepared. I would stop them."

"That's settled then," Raelle says, poking the mattress above her. "We'll make the song ourselves. Seed Sound Zero."

"Seed Sound Zero."

* * *

Scylla finds Willa in the fenced off back yard, pulling flowers from the ground. It's an odd sight that Scylla finds herself taking in; a Spree leader sloppily ripping daffodils out of the ground.

The night prior ended with Willa quickly gathering herself together and briskly walking out of the room without as much as a word, as though she had remembered who she was and who Scylla was: leader of a notorious "terrorist group" allowing mere cannon fodder to comfort her in her mourning. This morning Willa didn't even make eye contact with her, and Scylla left the house as soon as she could.

Now, however, Willa seems to sense the girl's presence behind her and is the first to speak. "Raelle liked flowers," she says. "When she was a little girl, she'd pluck 'em out of every tree and every garden she saw and would give Edwin little bouquets of mangled flowers. Daffodils were one of her favorites. Though as she got older, she decided _dandelions_ were her favorite. The white ones that you make wishes on. Once they were given the push, all of the little pieces were free to go wherever the wind took 'em."

Willa stands now and turns to Scylla. "She wanted to be like those pieces of dandelion. Go off and do her own thing without a care in the world." Scylla looks at the yellow flowers in the older woman's hand. "I'm taking them to the cemetery."  
  
Willa makes to move past Scylla, but the girl blocks her with her own side step, "Wait," she says. "That's not necessary."

It's half an hour later when Scylla is once again in the small town, sitting alone at a bus stop. "Anacostia," she calls, having no idea what she's doing. _"Anacostia."_

A few minutes of silence drags on before Scylla hears the voice in her head.

**"I'm here. What is it?"**

Scylla sighs, "I told her."

**"And?"**

"And she was all stoic and serious the entire time, like she wasn't about to drop off flowers at her supposedly dead daughter's tombstone just to be told she's not actually dead. It was weird."

 **"I don't know what you just said,"** Anacostia grumbles. It makes Scylla smile. **"Focus, Scylla."**

"I've been put back on mission." Scylla tells her.

**"Back on mission? She wants you to bring Raelle?"**

"That was implied, yes. I told her again that Raelle won't do anything I ask anymore. But that I will try at least." The city bus comes to a stop in front of Scylla and she steps in and takes her seat in the far back. "I'm on my way now."

**"Not now, Ramshorn. We need to figure out a better way to go about this."**

"I want to see her, Anacostia. And now I have to see her."

* * *

The aches and pains in Raelle's body ripple through her as she spreads the white sheet over her bed. There's a shooting pain in her chest, just over her heart and she winces with every lift of her arms.

"Y'know," Raelle groans at the next sharp jolt, "Being stabbed in the heart? It sucks."

"You're telling me." Abigail murmurs, sitting on her neatly done up bed and rubbing her own chest. "Why do I feel like I got stabbed too?"

"You do?" Raelle whips around and sets herself on her still unmade bed, giving up for the time being. "Well you did Link with me."

"No, that's not it." Abigail shakes her head. "It's like sharp pains, like I'm moving and aggravating it. It's not the same as a normal Linking transfer. Do you think the Mycelium thing is behind this?"

Raelle shrugs, "I dunno. Could be. We can tell Anacostia tomorrow."

Abigail puffs out a groan, "I swear, Collar, if you gave me some of that weird mushroom shit, I'm gonna kick your ass. Who the hell touches a wall of fungus in the first place?"

"It was cool lookin'." Raelle leans down and reaches under her bed. She pulls out a half full bottle of mead with her, which earns her a quirked brow from the girl across the room. "What?" she says, "We kinda deserve it after everything we've been through, don't ya think?"

Abigail chuckles and shakes her head lazily. "I heard that." She walks to her closet and removes two copper cups. Raelle fills the cups and takes one from her friend's offering hand.

"A toast?" Abigail suggests, pulling the lone chair into the middle of the room and sitting backwards in it. "A toast to Tally. For giving up having sex for the rest of her life for the greater good."

"I don’t know about the _greater good_ ," Raelle grumbles. "But at least she got some before it happened. Cheers."

Raelle and Abigail lift their cups before bringing them to their lips and gulping down the sweet nectar. Raelle's already refilling her cup when there's a knock at their door and the swing from its hinges. Standing in the doorway is a red haired, honey brown eyed Tally Craven, tall and youthful.

Raelle almost overfills her cup as she stares up in shock at the woman. Tally stands just as frozen in her place as Raelle and Abigail sit frozen in their places. She's looking at Raelle like she's seeing a ghost and then her eyes gleam over with a wetness.

"Tally?" Abigail stands from her seat, but she's too stunned to make any other movements.

Tally doesn't say anything, only stares straight into Raelle's soul with parted lips. Her chest rises and falls visibly through her heavy breaths. Raelle suddenly realizes.

"It's not Tally." She says, her eyes fluttering through a shaky sigh.

"You're… You're alive," it's Tally's voice, it's Tally's face, it's Tally's body, but it's Scylla's emotions that are splayed out on her features. And it's Scylla that takes an unsteady step into the room. "It's really you."

"Scylla." Raelle breathes, still not standing. A range of emotions engulfs Raelle like a burning flame. Betrayal, heartache, rage, relief; things she couldn't pin. Her stomach is in her throat and her lungs are pushed flat as she tries to steady the rhythm of her breathing.

 _"Scylla?"_ Abigail's voice is hard, but cautious and Raelle feels her brown eyes glance toward her unsurely.

"Did anyone see you?" Raelle asks, her own voice failing to be as hard as Abigail's. "Why would you pick Tally of all people?"

"I-I," Tally voice stutters as Scylla tries to form a sentence. "I used Tally's form just so I could get through base. I thought maybe if she was in here with you, that you would know I'm not here to trick you."

"Instead you made yourself a target walking around in a body that doesn't look like that anymore." Abigail spits.

Scylla doesn't know what she's talking about, but she's far too distracted to care. She's still looking at Raelle like she's a buoy in an endless ocean and Scylla's been treading the rough waters for days. Raelle finally stands, almost spilling her full cup.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, her voice is surprisingly steady, much unlike her heart which once again feels like it's been impaled.

"I―"

"No." Raelle cuts firmly. "Not like that."

Scylla looks down at Tally's form. With shaking hands, she pulls her lighter from her pocket and clicks it open. She hesitates, wondering if she should face the corner and do it, now that Abigail and Raelle watch her intently. High Atlantic's eyes bore into her like a powerful windstrike. Raelle's ocean eyes drown her in the storm within them. Neither of them look away, so Scylla, with earthquake worthy trembles, flicks the flame alive and puts it to her chin.

It's a warm, tingling sensation that runs up her face and over the top of her head until it feels like she's dipped her whole body in a bathtub of IcyHot. She feels herself slowly slip back into her shorter height. It's not a painful feeling; it's not really a feeling at all. She closes her honey eyes when the flames block her vision and when she opens them again, they're once again their bright blue.

Raelle and Abigail watch with identical looks of horror as the last of the flame distinguishes at the back of her shoulder length brown hair.

Scylla. _The_ Scylla, all clear faced, piercing eyes and full lips, looks back at Raelle. Her eyes are painted with so many emotions and she flinches forward only to pull back immediately. She wants to run to Raelle. She wants to _touch_ Raelle. She wants to breathe in the familiar scent she'd missed so much. To hear Raelle's voice in the soft way she once used only for her. To see the shine of love and affection and protection in those blue orbs that she gets lost in so easily.

"What the…" Abigail's mouth is still open as she processes what's she's just witnessed.

"So what are you doing here?" Raelle asks again, the sharpness in her tone leaving deep cuts in Scylla's chest.

"I wanted to see you…" she says quietly. "I wanted to make sure you were.. really alive."

Raelle gestures to herself, "I'm here."

Scylla nods her head and bites her bottom lip, visibly fighting her emotions back. She steps closer slowly. Raelle doesn't know how she should react to this woman standing in front of her. Just this morning before she saw her dad, she figured Scylla had been shipped off to prison to be tortured and killed. She was conflicted then. The thought of the woman she still loved being _gone_ just like that pained her to no end, but just _thinking_ about her brought back all of the lies she fed an obviously starving Raelle who just ate it up with minimal questions. It enraged her and broke her simultaneously.

"When I heard you weren't actually… dead," Scylla's voice breaks at the single word, "I wasn't sure if they were lying to me to…" she stops her sentence there, leaving the weight of the unspoken fall between them. "I needed proof."

"Who?" Abigail asks, her stance is protective beside Raelle, ready to fight for her mental health at any second. "Who told you about us? Was it another Spree agent on Fort Salem?"

Scylla's eyes never leave Raelle's, which grow darker and darker at every accusatory possibility. She shakes her head.

"Anacostia." Raelle says, her voice gravelly and low at the realization. "Anacostia helped you escape. And then she told you I died. And when we came back."

Scylla's face is all Raelle needs for confirmation, but then it hits her and she goes on with a small cock of her head and a louder voice, "Or was it my dad that told you I was alive? It seems like you've caught him with your siren songs too."

Scylla's face fills with a panic that brings Raelle right back to their last encounter in the Necro interrogation room and it squeezes at her chest like an iron fist. She's hurting Scylla, and it's hurting her in return, but like a pile up on an icy highway, Raelle can't stop herself from barreling through. Scylla's pained grimace and watery eyes threaten to smash the steel of her recently re-erected walls, but she doesn't budge.

Scylla swallows the lump in her throat, "I deserve that," she says. "But please, Raelle. If I could explain..."

"Nothing would change." Raelle growls. "Nothing can change what you've done, Scyl. What you've done to me or to Porter. Or to those people."

"There's no excuse," Scylla takes a step closer, reaching out for a split second before dropping her hand like she had touched an electric barrier around the two furious witches ahead of her. "Nothing will fix my past mistakes. I just―"

"So why are you still here?" Abigail bites, crossing her arms against her chest. "You saw her. She's still alive. You can leave now before we call for your recapture." Raelle looks up at her friend, her heart jumping. The protest sticks on her tongue.

 _No_. She's supposed to be pissed.

Scylla is conflicted, Raelle can see it. Her hands fidget at her sides and she bothers her bottom lip as she always does when she's nervous. She's hiding something.

"You're not just here to check on me." Raelle states. Her jaw clenches so hard she might just crack some teeth.

"They want to see you." It almost doesn't even come out as a whisper.

The ocean of Raelle's irises rises and crashes down on Scylla, dunking her into the coldness and keeping air out of her lungs. She's suffocating under the intensity.

"This is unbelievable," Raelle all but shouts. With a loud huff of a laugh that is anything but humorous, she downs her cup of mead and slams in onto her nightstand. "You come in here acting like you're not still on mission to _take me in_??? Talking all of this bullshit about how you wanted to see if I was really alive!"

The first tears spill down Scylla's cheeks at last, "It's not like that, Raelle!" she cries. "I wouldn't be here if this wasn't important!"

"What in your mind makes you think that I would ever join the Spree with you?" Raelle's heart is stabbing at her, reminding her that she's still healing, or reminding her that it's still breaking. Warning her that she's doing too much.

"I don't!" Scylla tries, "I don't think you're going to and I don't expect you to. That's not why I'm here, Raelle. I'm here because it's your mom!"

Raelle is stone still, like she's just looked into the eyes of Medusa. Scylla was once again there to destroy her, no matter how much she wished she wasn't. Scylla would have just let the Spree kill her for her failures if it wasn't Raelle's mother. But this was something she needed to know. And Scylla was never going to lie to her again.

"Your mom is alive, Raelle," her voice is cracked and pleading just as her eyes are. "She's alive and she's Spree."

Raelle blinks blankly at the brunette before her. The more she blinks, the more her eyes grey until they've become their sad steel blue. Abigail's brows come together and Scylla doesn't know if she's about to charge at her or solve an impossible puzzle.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Abigail's tone is predatory. Scylla was never afraid of the girl that never seemed to like her anyway. High and Mighty didn't bother her. But the shipwreck that Raelle is becoming _terrifies_ her.

"I'm so sorry, Raelle," she steps closer again, "I can't imagine how you must be―"

"How long have you known?" Raelle whispers weakly. Her cheeks are wet and her chin trembles.

"Just since I left." Scylla promises, "I had no idea, Raelle. I never would have kept something like that from you."

Raelle blindly finds her bed and slowly sits at the edge. Scylla wants to rush to her side and hold her, but she doesn't move. Abigail, however, takes her place beside the blonde. Her thumb rubs back and forth on Raelle's hand, the way Scylla wishes she was. Raelle is not sobbing. She's not shaking with tears, or balling; she just sits silently on the bed with trenches forming down to her chin and her eyes drowning in themselves.

"H-how can she be alive?" she stutters loudly as though the louder she is, the easier for her to process everything. "She was killed in Liberia." _They only brought back her medal._ "She wouldn't just… f-fake her own death and join the Spree! I mean, she hated the Army, yeah… But she wouldn't have left her _family_! She wouldn't have left me or Pop. She hated leaving us for her deployments so why would she leave us _voluntarily_?"

The door to the room swings open again and, before she even knows what she's doing, Raelle jolts forward and puts herself between the newcomer and Scylla, pushing the Necro directly behind her. Scylla doesn't even notice who it is at first, she's completely tuned into the way Raelle's hand touches her own. The way the warmth burns sweetly into her skin for the single second's contact.

"Scylla, I told you to wait until I said it was safe." Anacostia's scolding voice brings her back to reality when the door shuts completely.

"You know how much I love to listen to you, Anacostia." Scylla quips. Abigail looks disturbingly between the two as Anacostia takes in Raelle's reddened eyes.

"You told her."

Raelle looks wide eyed at her Sergeant, _"You knew?"_

"What the hell is happening…"Abigail whispers to herself.

Anacostia's voice is firm, "None of that now, Raelle. I could hear you from down the hall. Scylla, you need to go. Before people realize who's in here."

Scylla nods sadly, steps past Raelle, and with one final look at her, she flicks the flame back to her face. This time, she takes the form of the blonde haired, green eyed girl that attended the funeral and walks out of the room.

Anacostia's solemn expression stays on Raelle's irate one. "I take it from all of the yelling, things went exactly as she imagined they would."

"Do you think it's funny, Sergeant?"

Anacostia sighs and her expression softens, "Not in the slightest, Collar." She moves to sit on Abigail's bed. "This is an extremely serious matter in more ways than just one."

Raelle sits in the chair in the middle of the room. There's still something about this entire ordeal that seems surreal to her like she's still dreaming in the infirmary bed.

"Your mom is alive, Collar," Anacostia says, "And you must be feeling all kinds of emotions right now. Happy, angry, confused. But I implore you to take Ramshorn's offer. Go see her." Raelle looks at her sergeant in shock. "There's more to it than you think. Find out what the Spree want with you. Get the answers you need. Come back and help us win this war."

"You're thinking about winning the war with the Spree when Raelle just found out her mom is one of them?" Abigail gawks.

"Not with the Spree." Anacostia says.

Raelle doesn't listen to any of it. She's fixated on one thing, "I can't see her," she says, "She left us. Why would she want to see me when she left me? Why would I want to see her when she left me?"

"Sleep on it." Anacostia says, prodding no further, "If you decide you want to go tomorrow, I will take you." She gets off of the bed and heads to the door. With a final push, Anacostia throws out her final rope. "Scylla has disappointed the Spree enough times that they won't take another failure from her lightly."

Then she's gone.

* * *

Raelle doesn't sleep that night. Despite her exhaustion, she tosses and turns and grunts and huffs and thinks and tries not to think, but she can't stop. Just when things couldn't get worse, shit gets worse. She should be happy that her mom is alive, but normally a mother would come _home_ after dodging death. A mother would see her child, her husband. A mother wouldn't abandon the people that love her and miss her.

But Willa did just that. She dodged death and went to a Spree hideout. She didn't see her family, she saw the death of thousands of innocent people. She abandoned Raelle and Edwin, who loved her and missed so damn much every day.

She wanted to know why. She _needed_ to know why.

She had to see her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot to say about this chapter and I don't know where to begin...
> 
> First, I want to apologize if this chapter isn't as good as the previous ones. I've had... a rough week to say the least. My mental health is a roller coaster all the time, and this week was just another drop in the ride. So I struggled really hard to get this chapter written. Literally would spend two hours staring at the computer and I'd get maybe one paragraph typed out, it was rough. Plus, I've been having crippling migraines that the computer screen helps is zero ways. So once again I'm so sorry if this chapter is written poorly and also sorry for the possible mistakes! Call them out if you see them and I'll fix it!
> 
> I'm sure you all would have loved to have seen Willa's reaction to Raelle still being alive, but shit that was already a lot of reactions to that and I was DRAINED from writing another one! So I skipped it *shrugs* Just know that she saved face because she'd already been vulnerable in front of Scylla the night before and she had to throw herself back into Spree leader mode.
> 
> Shout out to Mamacostia's new phrase, "Goddess, give me the strength."!! You'll probably see that more from her.
> 
> Scylla and Raelle had their reunion finally. It's not the happy reunion that nobody excepted to happen in the first place, I'm sure haha. Lots of laundry to lay out between them if they're gonna get over this.
> 
> I hope you guys liked this chapter! Chapters will more than likely be once a week now, depending on how long I decide to make them as well my creativity levels lol. Hopefully I don't stare dumbly at my work as long this time. Or I'll go back to pen and paper for my migraines. Anyway!
> 
> Leave me a comment and give me that motivation and reassurance! Or even constructive criticism is appreciated too, hell! I'm on Tumblr under Gayassheda! Also, I'll be changing my username on here soon probably! No idea what yet, but just be aware lol. No longer just writing Clexa so I'm renaming myself lol. Alright, I'm done!


	5. Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raelle meets with her mom and it doesn't go well. Alder and the Hague have much to discuss. Raelle is an emotional train wreck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This. Took. FOREVER TO WRITE.
> 
> Title is called Island from the same titled song SVRCINA. The song also inspired the *knife* description scene you'll read in this chapter.
> 
> I changed my username, obviously, but I also changed my Tumblr name, so find me there @ ISailOnShips now!

The ride is quiet. No music, no talking. Only the purr of the engine and the drumming beneath Raelle's breast. She sits in the passenger seat of the vehicle, just as she sits in the passenger seat of her own life and decisions. She fully knows that even if she had decided not to do this meet up, she would still be sitting in this Dodge Charger with her foot bouncing nervously. By no coincidence, the driver for both occasions is Anacostia, sitting stoic as ever as she leads Raelle to answers she's not even sure she wants anymore.

No, she would never be in control of her own life. Not with joining the Army, not with who comes into her life, not even with whether or not she stays dead. So why would this be any different?

Anacostia knew just what to say to ensure that Raelle would do it, too.

_"Scylla has disappointed the Spree enough times that they won't take another failure from her lightly."_

They would kill Scylla if she didn't deliver her to them. Though Scylla was far from an innocent, Raelle couldn't be the executioner. She couldn't throw someone's life out just like that. She wasn't evil.

Not to mention it was her _mother_. Finding out that her mom was alive after thinking otherwise for more than a year was something Raelle couldn't quite grasp. Like a tornado, she was a whirlwind of emotions and it was bringing destruction to her soul. Anger was the song that sang the loudest in her, and if it continued to grow, there would be nothing left behind the tornado within.

She needed these answers.

The car pulls into a deserted parking lot at the edge of town. On a concrete fence sits Scylla, fidgeting with her hands in her lap. When she sees the car park, she jumps to her feet. Raelle stays in the leather seat.

"I don't know if I can do this." Raelle says quietly.

The car is silent for a few beats. "You are strong, Collar," Anacostia says. "You have proven this time and time again. You are stronger than you think. It's why I know you _can_ do this."

"You've got this," a hand clasps around Raelle's shoulder from the backseat, "And you've got me when you get back."

Raelle bobs her head, allowing their words to give her the might to step out of the vehicle. With a final breath, Raelle grabs the door's handle.

Anacostia quickly reminds her, "Forty minutes tops, Collar. If you're not back by then, we're going in."

"Got it."

"You sure you don't want me to come with you?" Abigail asks.

Raelle nods, "I need to do this alone."

She swings the door open and steps out. The sky is dark, threatening rain. _Of course._ Scylla comes forwards, meeting Raelle halfway.

"Are you ready?" she asks.

Raelle doesn't answer her; she barely even looks her way before she motions with her hand for Scylla to lead the way. The walk is awkward as neither of them speak. As much as Scylla would love to take this time to talk to Raelle, it was in no way the right time. Raelle had bigger fish to fry and she wasn't going to dump more into the sizzling pan. So they walk wordlessly as the rain begins to drizzle down and leave droplets in their hair.

Scylla sneaks a look at Raelle, whose gaze stays locked straight ahead. She wears civilian clothes to fit in with anyone who may be around. A long black coat drapes over her shoulders and a dark blue shirt peaks out through the unzipped front. Her black jeans are ripped, teasing patches of her milky skin that Scylla all too clearly remembers her lips caressing.

She rips her eyes away. Now was _definitely_ not the time for that.

They stop at a building that is very much not the Spree hideout. It's a different house on the wrong side of town. Where the Spree house contained, not only other Spree members, but Spree intel, this one contained only one Spree mother waiting for her soldier daughter.

Scylla leads her up the porch stairs and under the protection of the jutted gable roof, out of the light rain. The front door is old, peeling paint and cracked wood and all but inviting. The rest of the exterior of the house is very similar. The window to the left is missing its glass, replaced by graffiti littered wood nailed to the frame. Raelle takes in a particular green phrase.

**THE WORLD IS UNFORGIVING**

"Raelle," beside her, Scylla stands with her back facing the house, "I'll be out here if you need me."

The doorknob is as cold as her next words.

"I won't."

The door clicks shut behind her as she walks cautiously down the entrance hall. The house is dark; draped with shadow and dust and the stench of mold. The first room Raelle walks past is a small living quarters. The ugly brown couch is tattered and ripped and the tiny square television has a large hole in the middle of its screen. The walls on either side of Raelle are covered in all types of graffiti, though a lot of it is different scripts of many curse words, along with an unsurprising amount of phallic drawings.

The hallway opens up to a kitchen and dining area and Raelle freezes when she sees a figure sitting in a chair at the rectangular table, back to her. Sensing the new presence, the figure stands and turns to meet Raelle.

For the first time in _years_ Raelle sees the blue eyes that had once been the last thing she'd see before her bedroom lights were flicked off for bed. The lips that curl into the small smile her own was always compared to. The shoulder length blonde hair she remembers to have been to the middle of her back.

"Raelle," her mom is right in front of her before she even realizes, pulling her into a tight hug.

Raelle doesn't move. She doesn't reciprocate the hug, she doesn't pull away. She only stands, shocked still as stone. The embrace isn't warm to Raelle, like a long awaited reunion of a mother and daughter should be. The arms around her don't bring her the joy they once did with every return from war. The embrace is cold as the icy sand they supposedly cracked the woman before her out of. The arms around her are as foreign as the land her mother had died on.

This person that slowly pulls away now with glimmering, wet, baby blues was someone Raelle didn't know.

"I've missed you so much, Raelle." Her voice is familiar. Raelle's heard that sweet honey voice most of her life.

But she didn't know it anymore.

Her vision blurs. She's not sure if it's from the unfallen tears or from the rage building inside of her, but she blinks it away and holds her mother in her sights.

"You're so big now," Willa says, looking her daughter up and down, "Such a beautiful woman."

"Yeah," blinking tears away, Raelle's voice is low and hard. Uneasy. "That's what happens when you don't see your daughter is six years." Willa winces. She looks hurt. "You're not supposed to be alive. You're supposed to be dead. That's what we were told when they gave us a flag and your medal."

Willa nods her head, "I know you have a lot of questions…"

"No," she's remarkably stable. "No, I don't have any questions, actually. I've already answered all my questioned for you on the walk here."

"Honey…"

"Wait, no, I do have one question." Raelle's shaking now. "What the hell do you want from me? Didja think you could just… fake your death, run away, have a new life like you don't have a family to come back to, and then one day just _remember_ you got a daughter and, _'hey, why don't I make her join the terrorist group I left her for like nothin' ever happened'?_ Is that how it went? You thought I'd see you an' just welcome you back with open arms?"

"Little bird," Willa tries again.

"Don't call me that!" Raelle shouts, much louder than she had expected, but she doesn't care. "You don't get to call me that. You call me by my name. Or did you forget that too?"

"Allow me to explain myself, Raelle," Willa says, taking every furious attack with understanding. "Please, just let me explain."

"What is there to explain?!" her voice echoes off the walls. "What could you possibly explain to make this okay, huh?"

"Why I did what I did." Willa still speaks in her honey voice, as though anything less or anything more would chase Raelle away. "It's not what you think. Let me explain why I left the way I did."

The moment Raelle's stormy blue eyes had met with her mother's clear skies when she first walked into this house, she realized just how much of a mistake this was. She didn't want answers. She didn't want to know what it was that was so appealing about the Spree to her mother that it would cause her to trade in her family for it. She didn't know and she didn't want to know. She didn't care.

"I don't want your excuses." She's cold, the tremble in her voice is threatening. "You left. You knew you were gonna leave. Why else would you've left the charm? You left Pop and I to cry over an empty grave every single month for over a year. You left and then you send someone to seduce me and get me to trust an' love them like I trusted and loved you! Just to rip that away too!"

"I did not tell her to seduce you."

"That's not the Goddamn point!" the lone glass window in the kitchen shatters. It's mere coincidence that the first roar of thunder booms over them right after. "If you were expectin' a happy family reunion from me, you obviously don't know me at all."

"Raelle," Willa's voice finally dips into authoritative and parental, "I am still your mother. Listen to what I have to say. The Spree can free witches from the slavery of the Army. Let me free you, Raelle. Listen to me and listen to why I waited until now to find you."

"I'm not gonna to listen to you. I'm already done here. I'm not joining a group that murders innocent civilians like Pop." Raelle wipes angrily at her wet cheeks with the back of her hand, "And you're not my mama. _She_ died in Liberia a year an' a half ago."

Without a second look, Raelle storms out of the house with the shouts of her name chasing after her. It's cold out, but her body is hot with emotion. The drizzle has grown into a downpour and Raelle is soaked within seconds of stepping into it.

In the safety of the storm, she allows her tears to mix with the rain on her face. She lets everything she held back in that shabby house out under the cracks of thunder and flashes of lightening. Raelle thinks she could be the storm itself: relentless and harsh and destructive if it lasts too long. She wants it to last too long. She wants the rain to fill the streets to her knees the way she's already knee deep in her fury.

_Youth, beauty… and fury._

"Raelle!" Raelle's stomping down the road and doesn't register her name until it's right behind her and there's a hand on her forearm. "Raelle!"

Raelle spins. Scylla stands there, hair sloppily stuck to her face in the rain. Her light brown coat now a dark brown, soaked, weighted vest slips off of one shoulder. When Raelle sees her, her heart calms. The storm within her dies to the drizzle of earlier.

Until she remembers.

_"That's the kind of person that fills a balloon up with hate."_

_"Scylla is Spree."_

_"No matter what happens… I love you."_

_"Was anything real? Any of it?"_

She jerks herself away from the touch. The drizzle is a hurricane.

"Don't touch me!" Raelle shouts over the noise of the weather. "You're no better than her! She lied about being dead, but you spent months lying to my face, Scylla! Not once did you come clean and tell me the truth, and now that you've been found out, you want me to listen to you too?"

"I'm not asking you to listen to me, Raelle," Scylla calls back delicately, "This isn't about us or about me. This is about what you just went through back there. I'm not here to defend what I've done."

"Don't pretend to care for me now," Raelle growls, "Not when you didn't care before."

"Okay," with a sigh, Scylla wipes at her face, "I guess we're doing it now. What else, Raelle?"

Raelle's just getting started. "You said all of it was real, but that can't be true. The first time we were together? The second? The third? The _whatever number?_ All those nights together were just your way of getting close to me. To get me to fall for you like some stupid lovesick puppy, right?" the wind is picking up, but neither notice.

"From the first kiss, I felt something, Raelle." Scylla's voice is a desperate plea, "All of it was real. _Is_ real. Please believe me. I'm not lying to you. Not anymore. Never again. I love you. Raelle, I love you. And I know that doesn't change what I did to you, but the way I feel when I look at you―even when I didn't want to admit it to myself―is one hundred percent real."

Raelle is unable to stop moving. She paces with fists clenched and jaw tight and the need to scream. So she does. She cries out to the sky above her and the thunder that vibrates the ground under their feet is not coincidental. Her rage is a song that blows the blazing wind around them like a typhoon. It's a whistling blast in their ears and Raelle barely hears Scylla's next words, shouted only three feet away from her.

"I love you!"

Raelle is on her in less than a second. Her hands grip tightly at either side of Scylla's head and neck and her lips crash into unsuspecting ones. The force pushes Scylla backwards a couple of steps and she grabs Raelle's coat to stay grounded.

It's not the kind of passionate kiss she and Raelle used to share. Those kisses were always blossomed from the warmth of the sun and the what-ifs of their future together. Those kisses always said the three words they shared far too late with each other. This kiss was still passionate, but the passion was fueled with anger and Scylla could feel it in her bones. The kiss was sulfuric acid and burned through her body with every flick of Raelle's tongue. It hurt, but Scylla drank it up anyway.

Raelle kisses her hard, her mouth starving and her tongue searching and Scylla gives her what she wants. She kisses her back desperately, willing Raelle to taste the honesty on her lips and the love in their shared breaths when they part long enough to breathe and readjust. Raelle bites Scylla's bottom lip hard and Scylla winces but doesn't pull away. Raelle needs this. So does she.

The wind around them is slowing down and the thunder that echoes is natural.

Raelle's fingers dig into the back of Scylla's neck and the girl whines painfully into her mouth. Raelle finally pulls away, abruptly ending the kiss. They stand inches away from one another breathing heavily. Raelle is looking to the ground, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath. Scylla watches the girl, watches the way the anger in those dark, clouded skies of her irises drains away and leaves her lost. Without a word, Raelle walks to the curb and sits in the mini stream that spills to the street. Scylla follows suit and sits beside her, far enough to avoid touching her and angering her once again.

Neither know how long they sit there wordlessly. Raelle throws her head back and allows the cold rain to relieve her of her senses. It's when she hears the call of Abigail and catches the figures of the two soldiers at the end of the street when she finally speaks.

"That's not gonna happen again."

Scylla nods, and Raelle gets up and walks away.

* * *

 _"You did exactly what you said you would not do, just as I had suspected."_ General Sharma fights in Mothertongue.

The Hague have been reaming General Alder since the moment she sat at the end of the table to begin the meeting.

"Circumstances had changed faster than I could have collected you all for another meeting, and by the time such a meeting happened, all of the Tarim would have been wiped out." Alder explains, finally getting a word out after all of the arguing. "If I had not gone in and rescued them when I did, there would have been no one to rescue at all. I will not apologize for doing what needed to be done."

"No, you won't apologize because you never believe anything you've done is anything but the only option." Sharma fires. "You are deceiving and you have been in this comfortable position of yours for far too long."

"General Sharma," Alder raises her voice and a burns look into the unfaltering general across the table from her. "I promise you, I am needed in this position even more now after what was discovered in that desert."

"What is it, General?" The Russian General asks impatiently. Most of the generals were visibly angry with her for going against her word and deploying out to rescue the final survivors of the Tarim. Perhaps if she were in their place, she would be as well, but she knows her next words will steer their attention from her and to a more urgent problem they would all face now.

"We had just found the last of the Tarim in a hidden hole in the canyon wall," she recounts. "As we made for our helicopters, the pilots had been taken and tied to trees, and they were burned alive. The Camarilla has returned," with this, the Hague members shift uncomfortably and murmur to each other, "and they are using a bastardized version of our songs against us."

"Are you certain of this?"

"Absolutely," Alder's voice is grave. "We must be united as one in these new and coming horrendous times, Generals. The Camarilla are back and they are worse than ever before with their new technology and tactics."

"What will we do?"

"How can we stop this?"

"We have much to discuss today," Alder sits rigidly in her seat. "Many decisions to make. Who would like to start?"

* * *

"I'll get him!"

Raelle jumps from the bat and chases after the little boy in his sand covered hat. She kneels before him and spins him to face her. He's terrified. He shakes his head, wanting to run from everything around him. He's whimpering and whining and Raelle can't take the fear on his face.

"I know what you need. You see this? You see this? Watch," Raelle removes the Browerbird's foot from her chest and pins it to the boy's shirt. There's not even a second thought about it. She needs to keep the young boy protected. "This'll keep you safe."

"Rae, we gotta go!" Abigail shouts. Raelle hadn't even noticed she'd been followed and guarded.

"Okay, buddy?" the boy nods his head, already looking just a little less afraid, and that's all Raelle needs. To Abigail, she orders, "Take him."

The Bellweather does so and Raelle pulls her Scourge from its place at her hip, keeping watch as the two return to the helicopter.

There's no one around.

Raelle turns to join the soldiers and the Tarim. She barely registers Tally's shriek before the sting. It's not even the sting that gets her. It's the forceful push forward and the wet _squelch_ that causes her to look down at the blood drenched blade protruding from her chest. The exact spot her mother's charm was just seconds ago.

It's hard to breathe. Even harder when the blade is roughly pulled back out from behind her. She tumbles to the ground.

Raelle jerks up from her bed so hard her head hits the top bunk. Her hand reaches for her heart, searching for the hole, expecting wetness. There's only the dampness of her sweat covered Army issued shirt. She's surrounded by darkness and the hooting of an owl outside the window. Abigail snores lightly in the bed across the room. Like Raelle's shirt, the sheets of her bed are covered in more dampness; a product of another night full of nightmares― _memories―_ that were engraved in her brain and relived when her eyelids closed like curtains for the end of the day.

Her heart splutters, reminding her she is still alive. She lies back down, knowing sleep would not come again. She reaches for her watch by her pillow.

0336.

She curls into herself shivering from the cold air on her wet skin, and she cries.

* * *

"Goddess, Collar, you look like shit."

"Thanks, Abs." Raelle grumbles, stretching her arm across her chest and then repeating the motion with the other side. "Really appreciate the compliment."

"I'm serious, Raelle," Abigail says more sternly. "When was the last time you got some sleep?"

Raelle mockingly thinks before answering, "How long has it been since I died?"

"Alright, listen up ladies," Anacostia walks into the Rough room with a handful of other sergeants Raelle recognizes from base. "Today we are putting your training to the test. I have with me some of the best warriors in Fort Salem, and we're gonna put you through some very rigorous fighting simulations. I want you to give it your all and do not give up. Giving up even during your training, results in an earlier death in the real world."

Anacostia starts pairing the sergeants with the privates, putting Bridie and Abigail together before stopping on Raelle. "Private Collar," she says, "You're with me."

Raelle had not seen Anacostia since they returned to the base the day she met with her mom and kissed Scylla. She'd honestly been avoiding her sergeant, knowing there would probably be something more Anacostia wanted from her than just the meet up. Raelle wasn't ready for whatever it was.

"I'm sure you've thought about using that thing on me." Anacostia gestures to the Scourge at Raelle's hip.

"Once or twice." Raelle answers bluntly.

Her hand reaches to touch the rolled up Scourge, but Anacostia's own blue one whips around from out of nowhere and wraps around Raelle's foot. With a quick tug, Raelle is flung to the floor with a heavy thud of her head on the mat.

"What the hell," Raelle snaps vehemently as she clambers back to her feet. "I didn't even know we started yet!"

"There is no starting horn in war," Anacostia says firmly. "There is no designated start and end in close combat, there is only action and reaction."

Before she even finishes giving her lesson, she swings her Scourge at the private again. It hits Raelle square in the face this time and she stumbles back. Raelle surges forward, her own Scourge finally in hand and aims for Anacostia's chest. It's dodged with ease and countered with another fast swing. Raelle ducks in just enough time and she hears the weapon whizz by right above her head.

"Are you trying to kill me?" she roars.

"I am if I'm the enemy," Anacostia responds. "Focus, Collar!"

Raelle does a spin, twirling her Scourge in her hands and puts in as much power as she can in her next move. This time, the end of the Scourge makes contact with her target's leg, but it's not Anacostia's first rodeo. With every swing and curl, Anacostia seems to become more energized as Raelle grows fatigued and slower.

And angrier.

After a hard hit to her face, Raelle's lip is busted and bleeding and she's fuming. "Enough!" she's filled with a paroxysm of aggression.

"The enemy will not stop, Collar!" she gets in return. "You of all people should know this. Stop making this so easy."

Another hit to her side, and Raelle tips over the edge. "I SAID I'M DONE!"

There's only enough warning for Anacostia, who spots the sudden bright glow in the cadet's hands. She has just enough time to create a windeshear around herself before the explosion that erupts from Raelle like a grenade hits her. It's powerful―though nothing near as powerful as the one created by the Bellweather unit in the desert―and the force of it sends Anacostia flying across the room and into the wall.

When she stands back up with her weak legs, she finds that everyone but two people are also on the ground. The windows on every side of the room have shattered and the room is filled with the sounds of pained groaning and discombobulated voices. Raelle and Abigail stand nowhere near each other, both untouched and looking every bit as shocked as Anacostia is sure she looks.

* * *

"She doesn't want anything to do with you, Willa." Scylla says in a matter-of-fact tone.

She's cleaning under her nails with one of the beautifully designed throwing knives she'd bought yesterday from a street vendor who claimed to have made them herself. A lively ocean is carved into the blade, crashing and meeting with a lone island at the end of the handle, threatening to bring the island under it. Each knife shows a different version of the ocean and the island; calm waters licking at the sandy edge of the land, with the final knife devouring the island in a tsunami sized wave. It was a scene Scylla deeply resonated with. Raelle was the ocean: deep, beautiful, dangerous. Calm one moment, but with even the flap of a butterfly's wings, she could come barreling toward the simple island that was Scylla. And Scylla wanted her to come, to roll upon her with her cool skin and liquid touch. But too much of it, and Scylla would drown, like the final blade warns. Raelle's fury would submerge her and Scylla would do nothing to stop it.

Raelle was something she could not have. She was something she could not keep.

"She just doesn't understand," Willa breaks Scylla out of her thoughts once again, "She'd understand if she listened."

"It's been a long time since you've seen your daughter," with an amused chuckle, Scylla smiles not so sweetly at the older witch. "You really don't know Raelle anymore. She's…" she tries to think of the perfect words to describe the woman, "She's a firecracker. Fire her up and there's no stopping her. Just pray you're not in the blast radius. Too bad we were both stupid enough to be so close when she burst." Scylla stares at the ocean in the blade, "It's beautiful."

"I'm her mother―"

"Are you? I hadn't heard." She says facetiously. "Don't you think you kind of gave that position up when you abandoned her? You haven't been a mother to her since the moment you decided to leave your medal in that sand."

Willa ignores her, "You need to bring her back here. Your job isn't done yet."

"My job is done." Scylla announces, finally sitting up on the couch she'd been lying on and leaning her elbows on her knees. "I did what was asked of me. I'm not gonna force myself back into her life when she doesn't want to see me. I'm not delusional. Like you. And I will not try and guilt her or make her do something she doesn't want to do. If the Spree have a problem with that, so be it. Do what you need to do, but I'm done."

With a final carefree shrug, Scylla rises from the couch and walks out of the house, spinning the knife in her hand.

* * *

"No one was severely injured," Raelle sighs in relief as Anacostia folds her arms in front of her. "What was that, Collar?"

Raelle shakes her head slowly, her voice breaks, "I don't know… I just… I got so madand it just… happened."

"General Alder called it a Witchbomb." Izadora says, studying Raelle intensely.

"I didn't mean to do it," Raelle says, fighting the emotion building up in her throat. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone. God, I'm so screwed up!" Raelle holds her head in her hands and she feels herself breaking apart in front of them. Abigail's comforting hand rubs at the small of her back. "What the hell is happening to me?"

"It's not just you, Rae," Abigail assures, "I felt it too. When you did it, I felt it too."

"But you didn't blow the hell up, did you?" Raelle barbs. She quickly sucks in a breath and apologizes. "I'm sorry. I'm just…"

"When was the last time you slept, Raelle?" Anacostia questions.

Raelle shakes her head in her hands. "I can't sleep," she croaks, "I can't sleep without… feeling it all over again."

With this, Izadora comes forward and kneels in front of the cadet, who sits on her desk in the Necro facility. "Raelle, remember what I said to you before? You must learn to control your emotions. If you do that, you will learn to control this new power. But you can't do this if you're sleep deprived. Why haven't you spoken to anybody about this before now?"

"Private Collar is determined to bring me a lifetime of stress, that is why." Anacostia remarks, tilting her head at the blonde. "Take the rest of the day for yourself, Raelle. Izadora here can make you a sleep induction tea to help you."

"I don't want it." Raelle stubbornly rejects.

Anacostia throws her head back in frustration, "Goddess…"

"Rae," Abigail persuades, "You need this." Raelle shakes her head.

"Before I put you to sleep myself," Anacostia starts, "There is another matter we need to discuss." Raelle holds her breath, knowing where this is going. "We need you to go back and speak to your mother, Raelle."

"What the hell," Abigail hisses, "We've already been down this road. You saw how that went and you want her to do it again?"

"We need a connection with the Spree, Private Bellweather." Izadora backs.

"Why would we need a connection with a terrorist group?"

"We need to form an alliance with the Spree, ladies." Anacostia informs. "With the Camarilla returning and killing witches, we need to be united as a race, and that means bringing our two groups together." She uses her hands to symbolize the Army and the Spree as she clasps them together, "As two separated groups, we don't stand a chance. But as _one_ , we might."

"Okay, but why me?" Raelle asks, though she knows the reason.

"You're the only one who has a connection to the Spree, Raelle," Izadora says. "Between your mother and Scylla, you should have no problem getting the Spree to listen."

"I don't want anything to do with them." Raelle grumbles.

"You have to suck it up, Private," Anacostia says with authority. "This is not a request anymore. This is a command I am giving you. We need the Spree to join us to fight this new threat, do you understand?"

"We can't trust the Spree!" Abigail shoots.

"We can't trust my mom," Raelle adds. "She already betrayed the Army before. What makes you think she won't do it again if she agreed to this bullshit?"

"Leave it to us," Anacostia says, looking to Izadora. She decides to add something else to fully plant the seed in their brains, "Tally is behind us on this. I have been in contact with her without Alder's knowledge. Tally knows we need this. You two need to realize it as well."

Raelle and Abigail look to one another, searching each other's shocked expressions. "Are we trying to overthrow the General of the Army?"

Anacostia shakes her head slowly, "If she gets word of what we're doing before we get the chance to change her mind on the matter, there's no convincing her and there is nothing we will be able to do. We need the Spree to consider it now so that when we get the okay from Alder, it will be a cake walk."

Abigail gives a harsh, derisive snort. "Worst cake walk ever."

"You're going to see her again this weekend, Collar." Anacostia orders.

Raelle sighs, "I got no say in this, do I?"

"'Fraid not." Izadora answers.

Raelle bobs her head for a few seconds in silence. "Whatever."

Anacostia steps close to Raelle, places a hand on her head, and catches the blonde when she slumps into a forced sleep. "Get some rest, Private."

* * *

Raelle wakes up to Abigail tying up her boots. They lock eyes.

"No nightmares last night, I take it?"

"Anacostia knocked me out?" Raelle groans.

Abigail chuckles, "The strongest sleep induction I've ever seen. You snored like a freight train all night. I almost went to sleep in the hallway."

"I don't snore." Raelle pushes herself out of bed and begins dressing for the day.

"Yeah, okay." Abigail stands and checks her uniform in the mirror. "You good, Collar?"

"Yeah," Raelle says, "Just fine."

"Good," Abigail says, "Because you still look like shit, Shitbird."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It literally took me most of the week to just get the first scene written. I switch from long writing to typing on the computer and I try and write the Raylla and emotional scenes in my journal so I have more time to get words from my brain to the paper, so it comes out the way I want it? And then the rest of the chapter was written in about a day. Once again my Alder scene isn't the way I wish because I don't know what the fuck I'm talking about when it comes to them lol. Speaking of fuck, this is a Freeform show and so I'm keeping my writing to Freeform's standards. That means no use of the word Fuck, unfortunately, though who knows if that will change tbh lol. Just know if that Raelle definitely said fuck a lot with her mom and Scylla in my head!
> 
> I had fun writing the action scene with Anacostia beating Raelle's ass with the Scourge and I can't wait to write more action and combat scenes!
> 
> What did you think of the chapter? So sorry for the long wait!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr @ ISailOnShips and send me some love!


	6. New Toy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alder talks to Raelle and Abigail about their new gifts. Raelle and Willa talk business. Did anyone ask for Scylla and Abigail together? Cuz we got it. Khalida is a badass little girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so much easier to write than the last one and I got this one done so quick. Yay for that!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr @ ISailOnShips

Glass cracks and breaks under boots cautiously walking through the dark rooms. The walls are splattered with singe marks and dark crimson blood. The floor is littered with broken shattered and ceramics and broken furniture and scattered papers and bodies splayed out in unnatural positions. From elders to teenagers, men and women alike, death did not discriminate tonight. Down the hallway lies a man and a woman, intertwined in a rigor mortis stiffened embrace.

A soldier kneels before one of the younger females. She lies on the carpeted floor with one arm on her chest and the other at her side. She looks to be about 19 years of age. She almost seems to be asleep, if only her cold, hollowed brown eyes didn't stare up at the soldier. Her throat has been sliced, her vocal chords removed.

Just like every other dead witch in this house.

"No medals," a voice in another room calls out. "I've never seen any of them before."

"Dodgers?" another female asks from somewhere behind.

"This close to Fort Salem? I doubt it."

"The Spree," the woman kneeling stands upright now. "This must be the Spree."

"This close to Fort Salem?" the same Corporal repeats.

"Keep your enemies close." she says, taking in the results of the attack. "The Camarilla knew about them. How did we not?"

"Someone contact General Petra now."

* * *

"Today, I am going to teach you how to manipulate the air around you to go where you want it to go." Sergeant Izadora L'Amara's booming voice resounds in the Rough Room. "You'll learn how to remove the oxygen from someone's lungs until they are asphyxiated. Or push so much of it into them that they burst from the pressure. I once saved a soldier from choking on a piece of cake with this seed, so it's not just for ending lives, but saving them as well." The room echoes with the animated stomping of feet. "I need a volunteer."

Raelle looks away, avoiding eye contact with her just as multiple others do. They haven't yet forgotten what happened the last time someone volunteered for something Izadora was teaching.

"Does she ever even teach Necro classes?" someone mumbles right behind Raelle.

Big mistake.

"You," the Sergeant points to the Cadet who had spoken quietly enough that there was surely no way she could have heard her, "Yes, you. Private Yieldly, yes? Step forward, come on."

The Private shuffles timidly through the group and Raelle can't help the sigh of relief that it's not her. She watches as Izadora demonstrates the lesson of the day. The young volun _told_ female doubles over, clutches at her throat as she gasps for the air stolen from her lungs. It's an agonizingly long 10 seconds of watching the girl fight for her life until she collapses limply to the floor. The crowd is dead silent, shocked eyes stare at the body. Seconds later, she twitches and lifts her head groggily. Izadora helps her to her feet with a simple smile. Yieldly stares at her in horror.

"Take a moment to catch your breath, Yieldly," she tells the girl before facing the mixture of excited and disturbed faces. "Pair up! I'll explain further once you are all ready."

Raelle and Abigail are paired together, as nobody wanted to work with either of them after the explosive incident a few days prior. Understandably. It was a wonder to them how the students even braved being _near_ them now. 

Anacostia walks into the Rough Room soon after Izadora finishes explaining how the seed is created and they stand at the far end to talk.

Abigail attempts and fails to so much as a move a sigh from Raelle's lips. The latter is lost in thought.

Tomorrow, Raelle would once again be seeing her mother. She tries to imagine how it could go any other way than it did last time, but it was impossible. Would she be able to control her temper enough to convince the woman that they needed to form an alliance between the two enemies? Could that even be a possibility or was it a delusional idea that Tally, Anacostia, and Izadora had somehow convinced each other could happen. Anacostia made it sound like it was all on her, an 18 year old lowly Cession girl who could barely even stomach the thought of seeing her mother again.

When she thought Willa was dead, Raelle would have given everything she could to bring her back; to see her one more time. Now that she actually _could_ , Raelle wanted nothing to do with her. It was different now. The woman she once knew was gone and replaced with someone who had been so desperate to escape the military that she gave up her child and her husband to get out. The Willa she knew as a kid would never have chosen freedom over family. Apparently six years of not seeing her daughter grow up proved she wasn't enough to bring her back to them. Six years of not kissing the man she supposedly loved was nothing.

Edwin. Goddess, her father had no idea! How would she tell her pop, who teared up every time he talked about her, that his wife whom he loved ever so much has been alive and away all this time? Voluntarily staying away and willingly being a part of an organization that committed heinous crimes against innocent civilians like him? Not only that, but she was a _leader_. How the hell could she break his heart like that?

"Collar!" Abigail breaks through the veil of thoughts and Raelle focuses wide eyes on her. "You just zoned the hell out. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she responds, scratching at the back of her neck anxiously, "Just a lot on my mind, 's all."

"You haven't been sleeping again." It's not a question. Abigail has woken to the sounds of Raelle's quiet sobs into her pillow after her routine nightmares multiple times now. The sleep induction worked for the one night, but they couldn't keep using it on her. Abigail could _feel_ just how much it was affecting her. Ever since the _witchbomb_ , Abigail has been able to sense Raelle's being. She couldn't read her mind or feel her every emotion, but when it was intense, just as her exhaustion and stress has been, Abigail could _sense_ it. Not only could she sense it, but the whole world could _see_ it. The bags under Raelle's eyes had turned into purple pouches and her eyelids drooped heavily.

"It's fine." Raelle says again. "Come on, my turn. You suck at this."

"Get your head in the game, Raelle." Abigail orders as she positions herself to prepare for the attack.

Back and forth, the two girls took turns practicing the new seed. With her mind not in the right place, Raelle couldn't even get her partner to _cough_. Abigail, however, was quick to learn and had Raelle slumped to her knees almost every single time by the end of the lesson.

When training is over, they head for the doors leading outside like a flock of sheep.

"Bellweather unit," Anacostia calls after them. Raelle and Abigail join her and Izadora. "General Alder wants to see you two."

"What about?"

Anacostia shrugs, "Guess we'll find out soon, won't we?" she leads them to Alder's office.

Inside the office, Alder sits at her desk reading something from a long piece of parchment. When she sees the new company, she sets the paper face down and links her hands together. Around the room, the six Biddies go about their business. All but one, who only pretends to study the war table. Her eyes are glued to the scene about to play out before her. Raelle meets Tally's eyes and smiles just slightly. Tally takes in her tired smile and strained expression.

"Good afternoon, soldiers," Alder greets. "I'm happy to hear you two are adjusting… _well_ to War College." Neither girl responds. "I did hear about earlier this week's incident, however. Raelle, how are you feeling?"

Raelle lifts her shoulders with indifference. "All good here."

Alder searches her face for a moment before leaning back in her seat. "From what I've heard, this outburst of yours was very intense. Sent most of the other students to the infirmary." She chuckles, "Colonel Wick very much had her hands full that day. You two do not know how to control this new, _beautiful_ power of yours and if it's left like that, not only are you putting yourselves in danger, but this entire military base." She grabs for her half full glass of bourbon and takes a swig before continuing, "Learning to control this new Link between you two is now your priority training."

Abigail is the first of them to speak up, "General, what about War College?"

"Relax, Abigail," Alder waves with reassurance, "You will still attend War College. In your free time, I want you to train together exclusively. Learn to harness this new power. Learn to use this witchbomb of yours to your advantage. We do not know long this new gift will last, but until the results come back, we will assume it's permanent."

Alder looks up to Anacostia, "This could be very beneficial against this new war between us and the Camarilla."

The discussion continues for another 10 minutes before they are excused to continue with their classes. As Anacostia turns to follow behind her students, she makes eye contact with Tally, who gives her the smallest of nods in return. Raelle is fuming once again when they leave Alder's office.

"It's bullshit," Raelle grumbles, "She wants to use us as a _weapon_? It's like we're not even humans anymore! We're a Goddamn bomb she thinks she can take advantage of and use now."

"Yeah, but just think of what we can do with this when we _do_ learn to control it." Abigail offers. "I'm not taking Alder's side, but just think about the good we could do, Raelle."

"More training?" Raelle groans, "More training outside of our already packed as hell training schedule? Really? You wanna be that ra-ra?"

"Onward to glory, right? Buck up, soldier. Maybe now you'll be able to sleep." Abigail quirks a brow at her blonde friend and bumps her side with her hip. "Looking at you is starting to give me nightmares. You're starting to look like that girl from The Ring."

"Asshole."

* * *

The sun is bright in the sky and the clouds are nonexistent. The breeze is cool, but it's comforting and still warm enough for Abigail to wear her short sleeved silk undershirt. It is, however, cold enough for her walk close enough to brush against Adil's warm body as their arms link together.

They had barely had the chance to see each other since their return with the Tarim. Adil had visited her in the infirmary, he was there when Raelle healed the final plague ridden people, and they shared an occasional dinner or breakfast together before and after training, but Adil had been so busy helping the Tarim adjust to the new environment, and Abigail had been busy with training and classes and helping Raelle deal with the huge step back in her life. This is their first one-on-one time together in a while, and Abigail is all smiles.

"How have you been feeling?" Adil asks her with his soft voice.

"I'm feeling much better now." Abigail says. "It's been a lot, though. I've been babysitting Raelle mostly. And now Alder wants us doing even more training. I don't know how well that girl will take it, really. She's a mess. She's been so… detached. So drained. She's barely been sleeping, and then there's just so much shit going on. I wish I could do something to help, but what can I do?"

"You really care for her." Adil observes.

"The unit is seen as a whole," Abigail explains, "Her screw ups are my screw ups. I have to babysit her to keep her in check."

"That's not it," Adil says, "I see it in your eyes. You're soft for her." Abigail snorts and makes a face at him. He laughs in return, "Just be there for her. That's enough sometimes."

They walk further down the road, watching soldiers laugh and joke and enjoy their day off. It's such a normal day that will more than likely end with a lot of barracks parties as most weekends do on Fort Salem.

"How are things with the Tarim?" she asks. "Are they adjusting well? How is your sister doing?"

Adil intertwines their fingers together. His hand is soft and smooth and his fingers tighten just enough to show his affection at her interest in his people and his sister. "Khalida is Khalida." He chuckles. "She's happy to have our people back, though just from looking at her, you wouldn't guess."

"Happy?" Abigail repeats in a teasing voice. "You mean she has emotions?"

"Very funny," Adil smiles. "My people are just happy to be safe again. Though, they don't feel completely safe here in the hands of the military."

"They still don't trust Alder."

"Do you?"

Abigail shakes her head slowly, "She puppeted the President. How do you trust someone that defied the laws _they_ created? How long has she been doing things like that, you know?"

"She hasn't come to us about our songs yet." Adil tells her.

"Yeah," Abigail sighs. "That's because she's a bit distracted trying to use _us_."

"I heard about your little incident the other day." Adil looks at her with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Not my incident." Abigail says. She stops and faces Adil full on. He wraps his arms around her sweetly. "We'll figure everything out. Thank you for this. This walk is great."

"You deserve it." He smiles as Abigail leans forward and kisses him.

* * *

The car ride is a silent one for the most part once again. Unlike last week's meet up, this one would be in town, located in the eye of the city where there would surely be civilians enjoying a day out. Raelle guesses this spot is supposed to prevent her from causing a scene and shouting at her mother again. Less shouting, more productive planning.

"Isn't this treason?" Raelle says out loud to Anacostia, leaning between the driver's and passenger's seats from the back. Anacostia completely ignores the question.

"This is definitely treason." Abigail answers for her in a hushed tone.

Anacostia exhales loudly.

The town square is busy, just as Raelle imagined it would be. As they walk into the open area, she takes in the small restaurants and stores lining two sides, with a small fountain in between them.

Willa sits on a wooden bench facing the fountain. She spots Raelle quickly as the girl drags herself closer and closer. She doesn't stand, but she does scoot down the seat to give her daughter room.

"Please," Willa pats the spot beside her, "Sit."

Raelle almost doesn't. She almost opts to stay standing, to keep her distance from the woman. She has to remind herself of the reason for even being here. Staying standing would not be the way to start her offer.

She sits down reluctantly and peeks over to where Abigail and Anacostia had said they would be. The two of them sit at a round table outside of a café called _Happy Cat Café_ ; Abigail is reading the menu. 

So… while Raelle must agonizingly speak to the woman who abandoned her, Abigail and Anacostia are enjoying a nice weekend outing with food not from the mess hall.

Perfect.

Raelle quietly scoffs.

"You look exhausted, sweetie." Willa says carefully. She reaches out to Raelle, but Raelle leans away from her incoming touch.

"I'm not here so you can practice being a good mother." Raelle snaps. "I'm here for business purposes."

Willa takes a moment to respond, examining her daughter's face. She sighs, "Yes, Scylla told me."

Hearing her name brings Raelle's heart to her throat and she forces it back in its place with a hard swallow.

"What is it that you wanted to talk about?"

Raelle stares at the fountain in front of her. The statue in the middle is a Siren sitting atop a large rock protruding from the water. She's singing her Siren song to a woman in the water who clings to the rock as she struggles to stay afloat. Raelle takes it in.

"You know about the Camarilla's return," Raelle states matter-of-factly. Willa nods slowly and Raelle continues. "They're obviously not just going after the military. As a _Spree leader_ ," the title comes out venomous and burns her tongue, "You probably already know about their attack on a hideout earlier this week."

"How do you know about it?" Willa is surprised. The Army would never reveal such information to a Private fresh out of Basic.

Unsurprisingly, Raelle doesn't answer her. "The Camarilla want to wipe witches off of the face of the planet. The longer the Spree and the Army fight _each other_ , the faster our race dies until the Camarilla win. I'm proposing a truce. An alliance."

Willa gapes at her young daughter, who finally looks back. Her heavy eyes are hard and set, lacking any sign that this was all some kind of a joke.

"You're just a Private, Raelle," Willa says after a moment, "You don't have a say in the Army's relations."

"I'm just a messenger," Raelle retorts, "Conveniently linked to a leader of the Spree."

"So Sarah Alder sent you?"

Raelle's blue eyes reveal nothing and neither do her words. "If a Spree leader offers this suggestion to the other leaders, they'll listen, yeah?"

"The Spree is an organization fighting _against_ everything that the Army currently stands for. Conscription, slavery… Why would we listen to this?"

"This alliance could be the move that changes the entire world." Raelle sighs as frustration sets in. This was going to end up being a back and forth she did not want to deal with. "We could all change the outcome of this coming war. And it all starts here with…" another hard sigh, "You and me."

Willa ponders her daughter's words for a while, staring at her long enough to make Raelle feel extremely uncomfortable, when finally--

"Okay, I'm listening."

From a distance, Raelle and Willa look like a mother and a daughter merely having a mildly serious conversation. No yelling, no arguing, no fighting, or crying. Just chatting.

"It seems to be going well?" Abigail says right before the waitress sets a plate with a panini in front of her. "You know, I've never had one of these before?"

Abigail takes a big bite of the panini and her eyes bulge comically. "Oh my Goddess, this is friggin' delicious!" she moans through a mouthful.

Anacostia looks at the ravenous girl with alarm.

"Hiya, ladies," Scylla crosses through the other busy tables until she reaches them with a big smile on her face, reminding Abigail of the night at the pizza place. "Mind if I join?"

She doesn't wait for an answer and drags a seat over from the nearby table. "What have I missed?" she asks as her eyes fix on Anacostia's untouched bacon and egg beagle sandwich. She perks up and reaches over quickly, scooping up the sandwich and taking a bite. Anacostia's incredulous eyes follow every move the Necro makes in disbelief.

"You are too comfortable with me." Anacostia growls as she snatches the beagle out of the girl's hands just before she takes another bite from it.

"You're not as formidable as you think, Anacostia." Scylla hums with a slick smile and the flick of her tongue on her greasy fingers.

All the while this encounter continues, Abigail watches dubiously from the other side of the table with furrowed brows and hard eyes.

"Didn't she torture you?" she finally says after Scylla orders the same thing as Anacostia from the waitress. She can't understand the relationship between the two. Once a prisoner of the Sergeant's and now they interact like the annoying niece of a bored aunt.

Barely missing a beat, Scylla turns to Abigail with a mischievous smile and a teasing tilt of her head. She hums, "Mostly psychological, yeah," she pouts in faux deep though, "a little physical. The whole shebang." She leans forward slightly, as though about to tell the High Atlantic a secret, but her voice is a loud whisper that even the patrons at the tables nearby can hear every word, "What she didn't realize is that I'm into the kind of thing, if you get what I'm saying." With a wink to the younger girl and a sly giggle, she leans back in her seat.

"You're disgusting." Abigail bites, rolling her brown eyes and bringing her attention back to the delicious meal in front of her.

"I should have just let you go to prison." Anacostia rubs her temples, willing the action to relieve the tension headache that always builds up when she's around the Spree agent.

"So what did I miss" Scylla asks again, nodding her head toward the whole purpose of them being there. In the distance, Raelle swings her hands in front of her as she speaks with her whole body. It always amused Scylla to watch her use her entire body in simple or intense conversations.

_"I'm telling ya, his face turned as red as a firetruck!" Raelle exclaims, motioning to her face as she laughs. Her smile was so big every time she talked about her dad, and Scylla could lie in bed and listen to the stories all night long. "He was trying so hard not to scream at me, I thought he was gonna jump out of the truck instead!"_

_"The poor man," Scylla manages through a fit of laughter. The image of Edwin—whom she'd only seen from the one photo Raelle had shown her of the two sitting casually on an old sunken couch—clutching the handle on the top of a truck, with his other hand on the dashboard bracing for the eventual crash was clear in her mind with the enthusiastic way Raelle told her story._

_"I told him I didn' wanna learn to drive his stupid truck," Raelle explains. He Cession drawl coming out more the more she excited she got. "That thing is older than the Cession! It's been passed down from generation to generation, just like the ol' bird's foot."_

_"Only difference is one is supposed to protect you," Scylla says, nestling her face into Raelle's shoulder._

_"And the other is a damned death trap!" Raelle finishes with an exaggerated swing of her arms to the ceiling. She laughs lightly and nuzzles the side of her head against the top of Scylla's. Scylla presses her soft lips lightly against smooth skin and looks back up at her girlfriend._

_"What happened next?"_

_Raelle sniggers, "It got stuck in third and I drove Pop's truck into the fire hydrant just across the street from Mr. Puck's place."_

_"Nu-uh!" Scylla gasps. Raelle chortles and nods her head. Her body convulses through her laughter as the memory runs behind her eyes like a movie and she gasps for breath._

_"You'd think that'd mean he needs a new truck!" she exclaims, her own face red as a firetruck now. Her arms flail with mirth in front of them, "But he called Mr. Puck an' his son Billy out and they pushed the tin can back to the Collar residence. I bet he's workin' on it as we speak."_

_"He sounds like an amazing man." Scylla smiles against Raelle's neck, seeing double as she tries to focus to the closeness of the upward curve of the blonde's lips._

_"He's the best. Scyl," Raelle sighs lightly. "Can't wait to introduce you two to each other."_

_"Don't make me nervous." Scylla throws her arm around Raelle's lower half and pulls herself closer._

_"He'll love you," Raelle rolls to her side to fully face her girlfriend. Pale blue eyes meet bright blues in an intimate look. "What's not to love?"_

_Scylla's expression flickers, her sweet smile faltering slightly as she remembers exactly what there is to_ not _love about her._

_"Well, for starters, I've been lying to you this whole time," she wants to say, but she doesn't._

_Raelle catches the split second change and her brows scrunch together as she brings her hand up to delicately cup Scylla's cheek. "Hey," she says in a hushed voice, "what happened?"_

_Scylla shakes her head lightly and forces her smile back to what it was, "Nothing," she answers. "I just can't wait to meet the man that raised such an amazing person."_

_Raelle smiles back. She leans in and Scylla closes her eyes as their lips meet._

"It seems to be going well." Anacostia says. Following Scylla's gaze to the Collars' deep conversation.

"What are you doing here, Necro?" Abigail demands coldly. "Raelle is not gonna want to see you."

"This may come to a surprise to you, High Atlantic," Scylla snips, "But you don't have to be a bitch all the time."

"Ladies," Anacostia chides. "I'm not here to babysit you two, got it?"

The two girls go quiet as they exchange dark glares. "Bitch." Abigail mumbles.

"Takes one to know one." Scylla retorts.

Anacostia lets out a disgruntled sigh. "Why did I do this to myself…"

Abigail is eating her second plate of panini when Raelle and Willa stand. It's an odd interaction that makes Abigail literally cringe with the way Willa stutters in her movements, looking like she wants to hug her daughter, while Raelle stands stiff and robotic and side steps away.

"That was awkward," Abigail declares. Scylla nods her head in agreement.

Raelle steps her way back to her CO and only stumbles slightly when she catches sight of Scylla sitting with the soldiers. Scylla almost laughs at the familiar clumsiness of the girl before she is reminded by the curtain of distrust that falls over her face that she is not welcomed there. Raelle, however, looks away from her quickly and plants her eyes on Anacostia.

"So?" Anacostia probes when Raelle reaches them.

"She said she would speak to the other leaders. She's got her doubts, same as me, but she said it could work." Raelle shrugs and reaches over to take Abigail's panini from her plate. "You guys really decided to eat while I was forced to talk to my mom?"

Raelle finally fixes Scylla back in her sights and swallows, "What are you doing here? Your boss already left."

"I didn't come for her," Scylla says softly, "I came for you."

Raelle shrugs again in a believably insouciant way. "Don't do anything for me."

Scylla opens her mouth as if to say something, but she's at a loss for words. There was nothing left to say, and Raelle didn't need the extra baggage after the lengthy conversation with her mom. Scylla's eyes are sad and pleading and Raelle receives it all indifferently. The moment brings a discomfort even to Abigail, who watches the Necro's expression shift drastically from playful and teasing to broken and defeated. She watches the way Scylla sucks in a breath and gathers herself just enough to force a smile Anacostia's way, who gives her an apologetic grimace. Scylla stands from her seat and, without so much as a glance Abigail's way, she turns and leaves.

"Harsh, don't you think?" Abigail comments when Scylla is gone.

"Since when do you like Scylla?" Raelle retorts.

"I don't," she defends, "But that doesn't make it any less harsh."

Anacostia steers the conversation back. "So when will we hear from them?"

"I don't know," Raelle says. "She said she'd have Scylla inform me or somethin'."

* * *

Khalida sits on the ground under a large Grand Oak, surrounded by the flowers that would not normally be blossoming in the beginnings of Fall, and definitely did not blossoming _ever_ in the deserts of China. Her eyes are closed as she takes in every sound, every _feeling_ , of the ground below her. It whispers to her, comforts her, brings her guidance and serenity.

Her back is straight as a board and her shoulders are relaxed but pulled back. Adil sits feet away, joining her in her silent meditation and appreciation for the earth under their palms. She doesn't open her eyes when she feels the march of seven pairs of legs from the other side of the field come their way. She doesn't move a muscle when the figures stop just ahead of them and she feels seven pairs of eyes on her.

"Khalida," General Alder's booming voice is nowhere near the beauty and tranquility of the plants and the earth she creates with her odd connection to the base. Her voice, as always, demands to be heard, even when she tries for her soothing and non intimidating tone. She was a soldier of the ages through and through. "It is great to see you enjoying the peacefulness of Fort Salem."

"Yes," Khalida says, eyes still closed, "The grounds are healthy and brings everything around it a great energy."

"I hope your people are also enjoying it here." Alder continues.

Khalida finally opens her eyes and looks at the much older woman. "I thank you, General Alder," she starts, "For seeing my people as worthy of saving and doing as you said you would. But I know that it was not fully out of the kindness of your heart, and that by doing this, you think you are now owed something from the Tarim." Khalida pulls her intense stare away from the dark orbs of the ancient youth and stares straight ahead, looking past the group of soldiers walking down the pathway back to the main part of the base. "I hope to save you some time by telling you now that what you wish to demand will not be given to you."

Khalida doesn't see the clenching of the General's jaw as she holds in her composure. Adil, however, does notice this.

"The songs your people have are of my people as well, Khalida." Alder says. "They are songs I grew up hearing stories about and watching from a distance. They are not yours to keep secret."

"If they were out of your reach before, there was a reason for it." Khalida is unmoving and quick to respond. "These songs are far too powerful in the hands of someone like you, who uses our gifts for destruction. You create tornados and storms around the world with a cost that you have the fortune of not experiencing. My people will not be the cause for even bigger disasters because you are too starved for… a shiny new toy to take advantage of."

"I must insist—" Alder presses through gritted teeth.

"And I must insist that this dead horse will go nowhere no matter how hard you continue to beat it." Khalida states firmly.

"Little girl…" Alder starts but she drifts off with a quite clearing of a throat behind her. Alder lifts her head higher, her jaw furiously clenching once more. Khalida turns her head and locks her eyes on the once red headed woman standing just behind her leader. Tally's honey eyes shine in the sun and she looks right back to the young Diviner.

"Very well," Alder breathes with chilled tones. "I do hope your people are comfortable here in Fort Salem. The building designated for them is adequate, I take?"

"Very much so, General Alder." Khalida responds. She swiftly and effortlessly brings herself to her feet, "There are things I must tend to now." As a farewell to the General, she dips her head in a terse nod and turns on her heels. Adil stands and joins her with one final look to Tally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, Izadora's demonstrations are the freaking best lol. I imagine she asked Anacostia to teach this lesson and Anacostia just took her time in the mess hall drinking her coffee while her girl tortures her cadets across base. And second, we can all agree that we love Khalida, right? She actually was not planned to be in this chapter (or any chapters really) but then I decided we needed some Khalida for sure. There's not a lot of Tally going on in my chapters yet, but just know she's exchanging some knowing looks with people cuz she's on the down low from Alder's watchful eye/link. She's involved though.. <.< >.> The Raylla encounter was supposed to be much longer and different too, but then this happened and I added a fluffy memory instead because who doesn't love pure pre-ep 5 Raylla lovin'?
> 
> Anyway, lemme know what you think of this chapter!
> 
> If you see any typos or anything please let me know!


	7. Ankhiale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scylla overhears Spree leaders discussing very important intel. Alder makes a decision nobody is happy about. Raelle can't avoid the talk with Scylla anymore. Tally learns more about Alder's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was not supposed to exist. It didn't exist until halfway through writing chapter 6 and then I added it into my outline under the name "chapter 6 1/2". And then it became my second longest chapter lol. But this is a very important chapter so I hope you like it!
> 
> Ankhiale is the Titan Goddess of the warming heat of fire. Cute!
> 
> Time will be written in 24 hour time, since they are military.

Scylla does her usual daily routine. She wakes up, and quickly leaves the house for breakfast in town. Today is a sausage and egg biscuit and an espresso. She sits under the cool breeze and watches the water spew out of the fountain in front of the café. The dark statue depicts a beautiful scene of a mermaid calling to her lover, who watches the graceful being before her as she bobs in the cool waters.

Scylla found her morning routine to be calming and refreshing. The rest of day was unknown and could go either good or bad, but her mornings were certain and they were filled with the smell of freshly baked goods and the warm steam of whatever hot caffeinated drink she ordered that day. The first two hours of her days were lovely, while usually the rest of her day was… 

Not so much.

For the last week and a half, Scylla spent most of her days going from one Spree hideout to the other to relay messages or items. She wasn't surprised by the amount of Spree cells there were within a 20 mile radius of each other; the organization couldn't hold so many people in one location without bringing with it some questions. The attack from the Camarilla was proof of that.

When she wasn't going from place to place, she was usually practicing her seeds or studying, which she couldn't help to do as a former War College student.

Willa was growing tired of her incessant harassment about whether or not she'd asked or received an answer from the Spree leaders about the alliance with the Army. It actually gave Scylla a little pep in her step the more annoyed the woman's voice became with each encounter, to the point where Willa had actively begun avoiding her. Annoying the hell out of her was the least she could do for Raelle.

She hadn't tried to contact Raelle since that day in the square. Raelle didn't want anything to do with her at the time, and she didn't want to anger her more than she had to. She held on to the hope that perhaps, with time, Raelle would allow her into her life again. _Willingly_. She hoped there would be a time when Raelle would look at her again and Scylla wouldn't see despair and distrust.

Her hand goes to the small lump in her coat pocket, finding comfort in the charm even through a thick layer of fabric.

She takes a sip of her strong drink and her mind drifts to another Collar. Edwin, who could currently be at work or still asleep, was the only Collar that could bare to look at her at the moment; and of course he was the one she couldn't see. She wonders how he is. She wishes she could have spent more time with him, drinking horrible beer in the hotel room. There was a small town bar just down the street that she knows he would have loved.

A soft laugh bubbles out of her lips. She'll have to buy a 6-pack later tonight and drink in his name.

When she returns to the house, it's empty, save for the slightly older girl sitting on the porch stairs. She's not the same girl Scylla recited the code to on her first day of her return. That girl had moved on to another hideout, just as everyone did after some time, like the hour hand of a clock when the minute hand hits 12. The only people who stayed constant in this small house were her and Willa: both on the same mission. This girl wore her black curly hair loosely and her dark skin made her hazel eyes pop beautifully. 

Scylla gives her a friendly wave before entering.

Climbing the stairs, she plans to go to her room and harass Anacostia for an update on life. She stops short, however, when she is just behind a cracked open door: Willa's bedroom. There's a hushed voice inside that Scylla recognizes as hers.

"Are we sure about this?" Willa asks. Scylla's face scrunches in confusion as to who she's speaking to until she hears another, unfamiliar voice.

"Yes, we got word of it two days ago and had someone watching it until now."

Scylla peeks through the crack in the door and she makes out Willa's figure. She stands in front of a mirror, and though Scylla cannot see the mirror clearly, she _knows_ this is where the other voice comes from.

"How many are there?" Willa asks, her voice lowering with concern.

"Hard to say, but around ten, maybe more."

"That's not far from Fort Salem," Willa states. "Do we know what they're planning?"

"Our sources believe they are gathering intel on the military base. We also believe they may know of other nearby Spree locations."

Scylla stands on the other side of the door and listens further, taking in everything she can. She hears the woman in the mirror tell Willa that they are just a few towns away from Fort Salem, taking shelter in a small factory building.

She rushes to her room and quietly closes the door, locking it behind her. Once she's on her bed, she does the first thing that comes to her mind.

"Anacostia?"

She doesn't get a response.

"Anacostia," she tries again, "Come in Anacostia."

"What is it, Ramshorn? I'm in the middle of training."

"We have a situation."

* * *

"General Alder, we have information that you will want to hear." Anacostia and Izadora stand before the General of the Army's desk. The woman sits with papers in hand.

"What is it then?" she inquires, looking just over the papers at the two Sergeants.

Izadora speaks, just as they had discussed. "I received intel of a Camarilla base just towns away."

Her words bring Alder standing from her seat urgently. "How credible is this intel of yours?"

"Completely," she responds. "I can confirm its location as well as a rough estimate of their numbers. We believe they are collecting intelligence on us."

Alder rushes to the war table at one end of her office. She pulls out a large rolled tube of thick paper from one of the storage spaces under the table and, with the help of Tally Craven, she spreads it out and places paper weights on each corner. It's a map of Fort Salem and the surrounding towns, the buildings shown and labeled in bright red ink.

"Where?"

Anacostia watches as Izadora scans the map, her eyes working their way down each street name and every building. Scylla had told Anacostia just enough for her to find Izadora and share the information. Izadora worked wonders as a Necro and it was no wonder why she would so often work directly with Alder. Anacostia herself never really understood how the Necro department did what they did, but it was efficient and effective and it only took a couple of hours until Izadora was able to confirm the location with little knowledge they obtained from Scylla.

Izadora presses her long index finger onto the paper, on a square titled Boots & Footwork.

"This was a small shoe making factory a long time ago." Alder recalls, taking a small red pawn from the side of the table and placing it on top of the building. "I believe that last I heard of it, it was not in use," she stares at the spot on the map; the Sergeants wait silently. "This needs to be taken care of as soon as possible."

"What do we do, General?" Anacostia asks. "Petra and a large team have been sent off until at least next week."

"Anacostia," Alder says, looking up from the map now. "You did so well with the Spree from Baylord Auto. I trust you will have no trouble with _these_ terrorists either."

Anacostia looks ready to object. Her place was with her cadets, training them to become stronger, better warriors and keep them alive as long as possible in their future battles. She could not do that if she was being sent out once more.

Alder reads the dilemma on her face and in her taut shoulders, as if Anacostia herself is the map between them.

Alder's voice is soft, "You are one of the best soldiers I know, Anacostia. If I could put my trust in anyone to form a strike team and get the job done swiftly, it is you."

Anacostia locks her jaw and nods her head. "Yes, General."

Alder looks between to the two Sergeants, then towards Tally, who stands at the far end of the war table. She's the only Biddy who has their full attention on what is going on, just as she always does. Alder knows that the aged young Private has sensed her words before she speaks them, just by the subtle panic that flows over her features before Alder opens her mouth and gives her next order.

"I want the Bellweather unit in this strike team," her tone is incontrovertible, but Anacostia is quick to object anyway.

"General, Collar and Bellweather are nowhere near well prepared or well trained to join this strike."

"They held their ground very well in China with me, Anacostia. They will do just fine."

"Private Collar was _killed_ in China, General." Anacostia raises her voice and it echoes through the room. The Biddies all around the office stop what they've been doing and turn to the scene. Her voice trembles just slightly when she speaks again. "They almost didn't come home from China. These soldiers have so much potential and greatness in _their future_. They have barely begun training with their newfound gift and have not made any progress with it yet. If things go south in this operation, they may not return again."

Alder's jaw clenches and unclenches as she scrutinizes Anacostia. "I know you care deeply for this unit, Anacostia. I see it in the way you speak so fondly of them; like a mother speaks highly of her children for their performance in the latest lacrosse game. But we must see their potential, and it seems as though they activate this power through intense situations. This could be the next step in understanding their powers, and perhaps they will learn more from this. Learn how to use it."

"They are not stable, Sarah," Anacostia persists. "This will put everyone's lives on the line. Both Collar and Bellweather, as well as the rest of the team."

"This is my final decision." Alder says with finality.

In a quietly eager tone, Tally joins in, "General, please reconsider this." Alder gives her a hard look, and Tally closes her mouth and stares darkly down to the table once more.

"The Bellweather unit will join you and the rest of the strike team." Alder says. "You may leave now."

The two Sergeants don't say a word until they are out of the building and walking through the grassy field.

"Shit." Anacostia sighs with exasperation.

"That did not go at all the way we had hoped." Izadora looks back to Anacostia in concern.

"What is she thinking?" Anacostia hisses, irritation growing and eating away in her like a parasite. "This is not the way to get Collar and Bellweather to _harness their power_. She's going to get them killed."

"Again."

**"Hey, mom."**

"Ah hell," Anacostia groans loudly. Izadora gives her a questioning glance.

"What?"

"Scylla," she exasperates. "What do you want, Ramshorn?"

**"What if I just called to tell you I miss you?"**

Anacostia looks to Izadora, "Do you want to switch places with me? Please?"

"You'll learn to love it, Ana." Izadora chimes with a smile.

 **"Okay, fine,"** Scylla sighs, **"I have news for the alliance."**

"I'm on my way."

* * *

The sun hangs lowly, casting long, eerie shadows across the cobbled ground. The square has been thinned of civilian, leaving Scylla alone, save for the elderly couple sitting in front of the mermaid and her lover, and a few stragglers preparing to leave.

Scylla idles along the stones. The light breeze is a soft breath against her face, and the light caress of a tender lover leaving goosebumps across her arms.

If she closes her eyes, she can almost envision Raelle taking nature's place.

The airy laughter near the fountain is almost the light husk of the laugh that spread through the mess hall one morning when Scylla had her first breakfast with the unit. Instead of the smell of bread and gas from the bus driving by, she can almost smell sandalwood and citrus. In the halcyon times of waking up to the fixer getting ready for training, Scylla would lie in her bed, taking in the fresh scent of her girlfriend's body wash on her pillow before she also got up to prepare for the day's tasks.

"Okay," Scylla sighs to herself, "Get yourself together, Scylla." Stop making everything about Raelle. _Move on._

Moving on was nearly impossible when she was under the command of a grown, aged version of the girl she loves. It was nearly impossible to get over her when the Goddess herself had seemed to mockingly pair them together. Anacostia had once told her that their connection to each other was the most important aspect of everything going on. She had told Scylla that is wasn't Raelle and Willa's connection that would bring the Army and the Spree, it was theirs.

She didn't see how that was possible when the blonde couldn't even stand to look at her.

She breathes out a hollow laugh, "Yeah right."

"Ramshorn!" Anacostia's voice is behind her.

Scylla turns to see her jogging towards her. Scylla forces a smile to her face.

"Hey, Mom."

"Don't call me that ever again." Anacostia growls as she passes the teenager. She jogs until she's ten feet ahead of Scylla, spins herself into a backwards jog, and says, "Uh-uh, Ramshorn. You're gonna run with me."

Scylla's eyebrows are lost in her hairline and she looks to the madwoman. "No, I'm not."

"You are." Anacostia states before turning back ahead and continuing her run.

She's halfway down the block when Scylla decides she's really not stopping. With a groan and a whiny puff, she pushes forward on the balls of her feet and she's off.

"I didn't run a single day as a second year," Scylla says when she's caught up. "Why are we doing this?"

Anacostia _smiles_ , and Scylla knows it's due to the obvious struggle in her voice as she fights to steady her breath. Anacostia, on the other hand, is the vision of vigor as she breathes as easily as Scylla had when she was strolling down the square.

"Every time I see you, you're either sitting down or shuffling around. You get out of the Army and you forget how to move with a purpose. If the Army and the Spree are going to start working together, I need you in tip top shape for whatever is coming.

"What makes you think the news I have is good news?" Scylla huffs.

"Well, Ramshorn," Anacostia frowns. "As much as I would love to not admit it, I know you well enough now to know the inclination in your tone."

"The start of a true friendship," Scylla practically sings, the tease returning.

"No." Anacostia grunts. Scylla just smiles.

"So here's the deal," Anacostia continues, "I'm not going to tell Raelle about this. You are." Scylla stops in her tracks, but Anacostia doesn't slow. "Keep up, soldier."

"You do remember the last time she saw me, yes?" Scylla brings forth when she's begrudgingly at Anacostia's side again. "She doesn't want me around."

"You know Raelle as much as I do," Anacostia shakes her head. "She's a stubborn child that irks me, even on my best days. But she still loves you. And if we're going to do this, you two need to have a civilized talk for once."

Scylla doesn't say anything, though it's mostly because she can barely catch her breath at this point. Yet, there Anacostia was, not even breaking a sweat.

"She was _conveniently_ given guard duty tonight," she informs the struggling brunette. "She'll be alone, it'll be dark, and the base will be asleep."

"You know," Scylla manages, "I'm really starting to question how well the Fort Salem security is."

Anacostia finally slows to a walk and Scylla does her best not to double over and hurl. The Sergeant pulls a car key from her hoodie pocket, and the car just ahead beeps once.

"Right now?" Scylla heaves.

Anacostia opens the passenger seat, pulls a backpack out and tosses it to the red faced Necro. "The Tarim are very generous people. Khalida says she sees good things with you."

Scylla scrunches her face, dumbfounded. "Who the hell is Khalida?"

* * *

Guard duty.

Wasn't guard duty supposed to be a punishment for doing something bad?

Like missing inspection?

Or disrespecting a Sergeant?

Well, if that last part were the case, Anacostia would have her pulling guard duty every other night.

But Raelle had done nothing wrong lately. She was attending training on time, she hadn't missed an inspection now that she had no other room to sleep in but her own. Yet, Anacostia had come up to her after Fixer training this afternoon and informed her that this was how she would be spending the night. Apparently the Private who was assigned guard duty tonight had become sick and they needed a fill-in.

Why couldn't Abigail do it?

Oh yeah, she's a Bellweather.

Raelle scoffs inwardly.

She had just started to sleep through almost half of the night before her _memories_ pulled her out in a heap of sweat. Tomorrow was a weekend, however, which meant she wouldn't have training all day. Just Witchbomb training. Perhaps she would be able to rest at some point in the day.

It's only 2230 when Raelle has gone through a few buildings on the east side of base. It's completely dark out, except for the pale glow of the third quarter moon and a small number of illuminated bedrooms. This has always been the quiet side of Fort Salem, Raelle recalls. Where Circe was more than likely still alive with units drinking together, and the hallways full of gossiping witches, the eastern buildings were catching up on deprived sleep or unfinished studying.

Raelle remembers the nights in which she'd watch Scylla practice her Necro skills with her tuning fork in hand and her bottom lip between her teeth.

She could watch her study for hours,

 _"If you weren't such a distraction."_ The dip in the bed as Scylla would crawl across the mattress and swing her legs on either side of Raelle's hips always brought a warmth over Raelle as though the Goddess Ankhiale herself had come upon her.

Scylla was always horrible at studying, it was a wonder how she was so good in her training.

 _Stop_. Raelle scolds herself.

It's when she looks up from her feet, which have carried her to the next building, that she feels her heart drop.

The Medea suites.

Her eyes automatically land on the window five floors up. It's a poignant reminder of the nights and the mornings that were so amazing, she couldn't believe they were real.

And they weren't.

They were lies.

It was all just one big drawn out lie that had completely ruined her. She wanted to be over it. She wanted it to be said and done.

So why the hell was it so hard?

Every time she walked by the damned building, it was like another blade in her chest, twisting and turning, and making it harder and harder for her to breathe. If the Mycelium had fixed her wound in China and kept her from dying _twice_ , why wasn't it fixing the wound of her heart that was slowly killing her?

"Raelle."

Raelle stops cold in her tracks, her knuckles phantom white around the flashlight in her hand. She would know that voice anywhere.

Scylla stands in the darkness across the street, in the cover of the tall trees. She steps out and into the light of the moon, illuminating her features enough that anyone who knows her could recognize the curve of her cheeks and the shape of her lips.

Raelle charges toward her and pushes hard into her until she's backed her into the cover of the shadows once again.

"What the hell are you doing here, Scylla?" Raelle questions, looking back to the building for any sign of someone peeking out at them. "Are you insane?"

"No one is out here, Raelle." Scylla assures. She takes in the feeling of Raelle's fisted hold on her layered brown jacket that ensures she stay safe in the darkness. "I'm here on orders."

Raelle glares back at the Spree agent.

Willa.

As though she could read Raelle's mind, Scylla vaguely shakes her head, "Anacostia."

Raelle finally lets go of Scylla and looks her up and down. She's dressed in earthy shades, and her jacket reminds her of one she'd seen worn in the caves of China as she rid the plague from the little boy. It's clothing the Tarim wear around the base.

And Scylla looks… _really_ good in it.

Raelle shakes the thought away. "So that's why I'm doing guard duty, then," she grumbles.

Scylla tries for a joke, "I guess it's my fault again."

Raelle doesn't laugh. "What is it you need, Scyl?"

Scylla sighs. "Two things, actually. The first, is that Willa spoke to the other Spree leaders, and they are open to the discussion. They have some conditions that I don't know anything about. I'm sure that will be between the leaders and Alder."

Raelle processes this information. She had definitely expected the Spree to reject the idea of an alliance. Hearing otherwise came as a surprise to her, but it was nowhere near the end of it. Alder was the biggest factor in all of this, and Raelle didn't see how they would possibly get her to hop on board with the idea.

And by _they_ , she meant _Anacostia_. Tomorrow, she would go to Anacostia, and tell her what she more than likely already knows, and then she'd be done with it all.

There was no chance of her being done with it all, and she knew it. But the thought in this moment soothed her.

"Okay," Raelle says. "What the second thing?"

Scylla straightens out the creases Raelle made in her jacket. Instead of answering her, she gives Raelle a quick smile. "Let me join you in guard duty," and she's off; crossing the street to the old Medea suite she once lived in.

"Uh," Raelle stutters, taken aback by the sudden change in Scylla. Tonight, she radiated her usual confidence and sass; whereas in their most recent encounters, the light within her had been dimmed or gone out.

"What're you doing, Scylla?" Raelle catches up to her. "Do you have a death wish? You can't go inside."

"There are no cameras in Fort Salem," Scylla mentions, her eyes gleaming a mischievous blue that almost makes Raelle forget she's still pissed at her.

Raelle twists her around with a quick pull of her shoulder. "Scylla, what else are you here for?"

Scylla opens her mouth, her tongue between her teeth as she mulls her words over. Raelle watches the shift in her emotions as she is no longer able to avoid whatever the topic is.

She voice is low now, "I know that you don't want to hear me. Or talk to me, or see me," she starts. "But if we're going to be working together, we have to be able to stand in the same room together. Anacostia says we're the strongest thread in this alliance. Not Alder and Willa. Not you and Willa. Not Anacostia and I. It's you and me."

 _It's always been you and me_ , she wants to say.

"So you may not want to hear it or ask it, but you need to. And you can't run away this time." As an afterthought, she adds, "No, really. You can't. Unless you want guard duty for a whole week."

Raelle runs through a series of emotions, like a conveyer belt at the airport, dropping off her feelings and moving to the next. It's anger, as usual, that starts the tango. Anger for being forced into this when she so very actively had been avoiding it. No matter what she said, no matter what she did, everyone was going to force it upon her anyway.

This was followed by sadness. Sadness in the way Scylla's usually electric eyes had once again lost their spark. Sadness in the way her heart ached and her hand burned to entangle itself in the hand that once fit perfectly in hers, while simultaneously pushing her away and crying for her to finally just let her be. Sadness in their past and what she once believed to be an authentic love story she never knew she could live in, only to learn she'd been living in a Grimm fairytale all along and her lover was really the monster come to devour her.

Closing the line came a sort of acceptance. This was going to happen one way or another, and though she had tried to drag it on and keep it away for so long, she knew it would boomerang its way back, and she would have to confront it eventually. She had the choice of letting it hit her dead on while she continued to ignore it, or she could catch it and decide what to do with it after. While it wasn't so close to reality before, she was very much fine with the former; but now, she was ready.

Or as ready as she'd ever be.

"You're Spree." Raelle finally says. It's barely audible through her unmoving lips, but Scylla is close enough to catch the words.

Her brows tilt back in a sad expression of hope. Raelle was cooperating. This was a start.

"I am in the Spree." She nods her head simply.

Raelle sucks in a breath. She knew this, of course. But this was Scylla's first time saying the words to her. She's already ready to snap once again, but she holds it back. If Scylla was going to make her ask questions, she would do it.

Or she would start accusing.

"You seduced me, and used me, and played me, and gave me hope, all while planning on throwing me to the Spree and meaning none of what you said to me."

Scylla's face contorts with compunction. "Raelle, please listen to me this time. Listen with an open mind. A crack, even. It started off like that, okay? Yes, I admit it. I chose to use a physical connection to get closer to you and convince you to join the Spree. I did that and I am _so sorry._ "

She reaches towards Raelle, grabbing her forearm before Raelle pulls away.

"It started like that, but then I spent more time with you, and what was supposed to be easy to fake became easy to _feel_. Because you're _you_ , Raelle. You're you and you… did things to me," she presses her hand her chest, just above her heart. "you made me feel things that I thought I had lost and would never feel again. You gave me hope."

"I'm havin' a hard time believing anything you say, Scyl." Raelle looks up at the dark sky. The constellations splatter the blackness and she follows the shape of the Big Dipper. "You based our whole relationship on one big fucking lie! Why would I believe a word you ever tell me after that?"

"Because I'm not lying," the throaty sound is not her voice. She clears it and continues. "Not anymore. I'm not going to lie to you ever again, Raelle. Not about anything." Scylla fights the tears building in her eyes at what she was reading herself to retell once again. "When I told you about my parents… I wasn't lying. My parents were Dodgers. And they were killed by the Army _after_ they had surrendered."

Raelle pins Scylla with pools of tenderness and caution as Scylla tells the story of how she was orphaned at the age of 16. The hard, cold stone of Raelle's heart chipped away as she listened on, feeling every break of Scylla's voice in herself.

"I joined the Spree because they gave me a place to put my anger and my hate," she ends. "But you gave me a place to put my hope and my love. Two things I didn't think I'd ever have again. You accepted me for who I was and you offered me who you were, and I found a safer, better place with you."

Raelle watches as Scylla blinks up at the sky until her eyes drink in the unfallen tears again. She's close to closing the distance between them and taking her hand. But she turns her attention to the Medea building, and her eyes fixate on the stop where she once watched Porter fall to his death.

It was reported as a suicide, but Byron had told her he was anything but. The visions of Scylla, the feelings she absorbed of his final moments. 

  
_"Did you see him that night? Scyl, tell me the truth."_

_Scylla hesitates for a brief moment. "What if I did? What are you implying?"_

  
_"What about Porter Tippet?" Sergeant Quartermaine asks right outside of the high school of City Drop. "Is it possible she had something to do with his death?"_

"You killed Porter." It isn't a question; indisputable.

Scylla doesn't deny it.

"At the time, I didn't see any other way." She knew no matter how she said it, nothing would make it okay.

"He was your ex, and you made him jump off of the roof. To what? To keep your secret?" The reminder bubbles Raelle's blood once more, like a boiling witch's cauldron from one of those movies Tally made her and Abigail watch in the rec room one night.

They never actually dated, Scylla almost corrects her; but it's completely unnecessary and beside the point.

"I was afraid. I was afraid of what would happen if he told anyone. The Spree were already unhappy with me for not handing you over to them yet." She remembers Raelle flipping her onto her back; straddling her; choking her before lighting a flame to her hair and revealing a Spree agent.

"If I could, I would change what I did. I would change a lot of what I did." Raelle hears to poignance in her voice; sees it in the way her hands fidget together. Raelle doesn't want to see it. She doesn't want to _believe_ it. Doing so would mean Scylla isn't lying; and if she isn't lying about this, maybe she isn't lying about her feelings for her.

And that could break Raelle's walls.

The walls she hurriedly built back up the moment those words left Anacostia's mouth.

_"She told you what you needed to hear."_

Raelle trudges on, toward the building once more.

"Raelle," Scylla calls to her, the panic evident in the way her voice rises in pitch. Raelle continues. "Link with me," she stops and looks back at her ex, who starts toward her. "Link with me and you will see that I'm not lying."

Raelle stares at her, brows furrowed and heart pounding in her ears. From the moment in the Necro facility, when she screamed at Scylla and silently shed tears when Scylla had told her she picked her over the Spree, she struggled with herself—back and forth—over whether or not she had really meant it. Had Scylla really loved her the way she said she did? Anacostia told her under the Grand Oak tree that it was the one part that was true. Yet there was always something in her that didn't believe it, that _couldn’t_ believe it.

Now, Scylla was offering proof. Raw, true, untampered emotion from the past. She could finally see the truth.

"I'm not gonna Link with you, Scyl," she whispers to deep, desperate orbs. "I'm not… I'm not ready for that."

"O-okay," Scylla tips her head just slightly.

"Look," Raelle sighs and presses her thumb and index finger to the bridge of her nose. All of this was draining her, and she wasn't anywhere near done checking all of the suites. "I know what you're trying here. You're tryna get me back, and I gotta tell ya, it's not gonna happen. I can't trust you. Even if… I did Link with you right now. If what you've been saying is true, it's not gonna change anything. I still won't trust you. Not after everything. So don't expect anything more than just… _friends_ , outta this."

"Friends," Scylla tastes the word. It's bitter, but it will suffice. She nods, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth, "Friends is perfect, Raelle."

They weren't friends. She had only meant that that would be the most they could be in the future, _if even that_. Raelle doesn't have it in her to correct her. Screw it.

"Friends?" Scylla offers her hand between them.

Raelle looks at it for a moment.

"Friends." Raelle takes her hand with her left.

And there was Ankhiale, once more bringing that warmth to her hand as their shared Link that Scylla created months ago seared sweetly between them.

* * *

"General, I am asking you to think about this, please."

Tally's weight is on her leaned on the war table.

It's well past midnight, and Tally had been at this with Alder in many different, passive ways. Now, she needed to lay it out for her. She needed Alder to _think_.

"I have thought about this, Craven, and we have been through this enough times already." Alder's tart tone clearly expresses her annoyance of this conversation. "I have grown quite tired of this squabble."

"I implore you not to send those girls out there." Tally is pugnacious. She won't drop this without a fight. "They are not ready. They will get themselves killed."

"Anacostia will not let that happen." Alder says it like it's the most simple thing in the world.

A lioness who will stop at nothing to protect her young cubs. Tally believes it.

"She can't do that if she's _dead_. And that's what will happen if Abigail and Raelle lose control and Witchbomb with the other soldiers too close."

Alder adjusts the position of a yellow pawn on the war table and doesn't respond. Tally continues.

"They are in War College now. Let them be in War College. Let them train and learn how to use this new power they have, so that when they have more experience, they can confidently fight with it."

"I must remind you," Alder moves a few pawns from one area of the table to another strategically before bringing all her attention to the reluctant and powerfully opinionated Biddy across the table. My, did this girl have something to say about _every_ decision Alder made. "Bellweather and Collar were your unit, yes, but now you are _my_ unit."

Tally straightens up, sucking in a breath and holding in her next thoughts. Alder senses them anyway. "You are a stubborn woman, Tally."

"Sarah…" Tally pleads.

"When I was younger," Alder speaks, once again moving pieces here and there. "About your age, actually. I was learning to use my own gifts. Now, they're nothing like that of your friends. No. They were the seeds we now use to defend our nation. These were not easy to learn in my time, you see. Not many witches could allow have or show potential and power with the watchful eye of civilians reporting anything that looked like it could be magick. Mothertongue was hidden from civilians, even. A language like that was surely not of this world and it would get you tied to a poll and burned in front of the entire village."

"One night, when our collection of witches were mostly asleep, they came for us. All of us at once. My sister and I woke up to screaming, and fire… everywhere. She was younger than I was, unable to sing a seed. Everyone had been either captured and disabled, killed, or had ran off to save themselves. I was the only one who could help them. Free them."

Alder looks to Tally now. "I froze. Under pressure for the first time ever, I froze. I couldn't even open my mouth and try. I couldn't do it. And because of my failure, my mother and the rest of my people were burned alive in the middle of the night. And my sister and I fled across the ocean to sanctuary, only to find the same struggles were all over the world."

Alder crosses the war table and cups her hand over Tally's age spotted face. "I am not sending them out ruthlessly, my daughter. I am sending them out now so that they are surrounded by others who can help them if they _do_ freeze. I don't want them to go through what I did."

Tally doesn't realize she's crying until the first drop runs down her check and onto the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... that whole Freeform, no big swear words thing I said I was doing? Yeah... Oops? I knew it was coming eventually. What can I say?
> 
> I had the hardest time writing the first half of this chapter and I hate every sentence I wrote for two days. But in whole, I actually like this chapter! Very Anacostia and Scylla heavy chapter and we get some background on Alder!! Thoughts?
> 
> I don't know why, but "Who the hell is Khalida?" made me laugh when I wrote it.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr @ ISailOnShips and send me some questions!!


	8. Combat Charms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raelle and Abigail train, Anacostia tells them about the mission. The Unit are surprised by a familiar face, and Scylla sees Raelle one last time for she leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr @ ISailOnShips

Eyes closed, breath even, chest rising and falling slowly. The only thing Raelle hears is the sound of her heart pumping rhythmically in her ears. She allows the sound to wash over her like a cool ocean breeze. The kind of breeze she's never felt in the Cession humidity, but she imagines this may be what it feels like.

Her arms tingle, though it's more of an uncomfortable tingle than anything else.

She pushes the thought away and focuses. She brings her mind back to the hands she holds in her own. They're calloused, but soft; firm, but gentle; warm and clammy.

"Stop moving around so much."

With an irate sigh, Raelle drops her hands, "I can't focus on a link with you when your hands are so sweaty and gross."

"Oh, and yours are dry and pleasant?" Abigail bites back.

"I'm gettin' antsy just standing here holdin' your stupid hand."

"Raelle, we need to focus on connecting."

"I know," Raelle groans. "But we've been trying this same thing over and over for weeks now, and it's not working. This is obviously not how it works, Abs. we gotta figure somethin' else out."

Abigail grabs her metal canteen from the floor nearby and watches Raelle shake out her limbs.

"You look more awake," she says before gulping down the cold water. "I take it your nap after guard duty was a success."

"Yeah, it was, actually. I feel a lot more refreshed."

It was true that she felt better, but she knew it wasn't entirely due to the couple of hours of dreamless sleep she got when the sun rose. In truth, a lot of it had to do with her talk with the brunette disguised as the Tarim. She listened, she heard; she couldn't forgive, but she processed; she yelled, she almost cried. She asked questions and she got answers; and the pounds and pounds of anger, and confusion, and pain she'd been carrying with her everywhere she went because of it had finally begun to lighten. She could still feel the weight, but it was the weight of a feather compared to the cement truck it was prior to last night.

"That's good," Abigail hands the blonde her own canteen of water. "Because people are starting to think we're more than just bunkmates, and I'm just too much for you to handle."

Raelle almost spits out her water. "Please, if anything, you'd be the one that couldn't handle me."

Abigail cackles loudly and sarcastically. "Yeah. Okay, Shitbird."

Raelle sets her drink back on the mat and Abigail brings her hands between them again.

"No, I'm done with that." Abigail gives her a look. "It's not working, so we gotta try something else."

"Okay, fine," Abigail drops her hands. "What do you have in mind?"

Raelle walks around on the blue mat and thinks, "I think we're thinking too much into it," she says. "When I blew up in here, I wasn't thinking about it at all. I was pissed and overwhelmed and it just happened."

"Because you couldn't get a hold of your emotions." Abigail says. "We need to control it, not the other way around."

"Okay, but what if…" she stops and faces Abigail, "What if we do some other training, right? And through it, we try an coax it out, and then we can figure out how to control it like that?"

Abigail looks blankly at Raelle until her lips thin out and she rolls her chocolate eyes. "I hate when you make sense, Shitbird."

"And I love when you gotta admit it."

Without warning, Abigail swings her closed fist at Raelle, who sees it coming soon enough to duck swiftly.

"I see you took your lessons from Quartermaine seriously," she teases with a smile. She goes for a hook-jab combo, which Raelle parries with a dodged strike of her own. "Whose room did you stop by last night on duty, Collar?"

"Shut up." Raelle throws a few blows of her own, all of which Abigail skillfully ducks and moves away from. She drops to the floor and swings her leg out under Raelle, who doesn't react in time and finds herself belly up with a hard drop.

"Storm and fury, soldier." Abigail adjusts her fingerless gloves with a cocky grin that Raelle can't wait to wipe off of her face.

They spar for a while, connecting many hits and evading just as many. By the time they stop, they're both breathing heavily on the floor and dripping in sweat. Raelle knows she'll have a big bruise on her ribcage in the shape of Abigail's knuckles, and Abigail can already feel the multiple swollen spots rising on her upper leg from Raelle's powerful kicks.

They're not done yet, but they take this time to hydrate and grab for their Scourges, both lying together at the end of the mat.

"Anything?" Abigail asks.

Raelle shakes her head, "Nope. Nothin'."

"Don't worry," Abigail releases the coiled Scourge behind her with a _crack_. "I'll get it out of ya."

"Oh?" Raelle undoes her own blue Scourge, and with a playful smile of her own, "Sure you're not the one to start the rumor about us, Bellweather?"

With unrelenting swings and the thunder of their Scourges cracking the air, heart rates rise once more and adrenaline surges. 

"Come on, Rae!" the shout echoes through the room along with another whip in her direction. This one hits her square in the jaw and Raelle tastes blood. "Embrace your inner mushroom!"

With a grunt of frustration, Raelle charges at her unit member. Abigail opens her mouth and her windshear sends Raelle flying backwards and onto the floor. Raelle groans as the air is pushed from her lungs.

There's a chill in her veins that catches her by surprise when she stands back up. It's like a winter river flooding through her and bringing a tingling chill over her body. It feels familiar, this stream; like she's laid floating in it before, allowing it to rush her through wherever it wanted to take her.

"Wait," she calls to Abigail, who's ready to strike once more. "Wait, I feel it."

This was it. This was the witchbomb they had been training for weeks to bring out, and understand, and control. These were the icy waters in which the Mycelium had formed and lived in inside of her, and this time, she would not allow it to drag her down the rough and uncontrollable waves. She would take control and maneuver how she wanted.

She brings all of her focus to her hands; she remembers Anacostia saying the white flash came from her hands. She squeezes her eyes shut and concentrates on the ice cold blood flowing in her body and wills the chill to her fingers, to her palms. Her heart drums in her ears, drowning out anything Abigail may be saying and leaving her in her own world, where it's just her and the power. The cool heat gathers in her arms and glides down to her hands. They feel like frozen fire, burning cold all over and growing. She opens her eyes, expecting to see something; the bright white of what her sergeant had described to her. But there's nothing, and almost as fast as her eyelids lift, the sensation in her palms dissipates.

There's a quick slip of disappointment, but it's stomped out by the wave of excitement that fills her up as she's all white smile and joyous laugh.

"Abs, I moved it!" she exclaims, bringing her hands straight out to her friend. "I moved the tingle to my hands!"

Abigail doesn't give a questioning look. She doesn't ask what the hell she's talking about. Raelle has someone who knows what she's going through, who has felt what she's felt.

"One step closer to knowing what the hell you're doing!" Abigail comes forward and clasps her hand into Raelle's in a tight and confident hold.

"We're gonna take control of these mighty mushroom powers of ours." Abigail says with the hard pat of her other hand on Raelle's shoulder.

It's the jubilant energy wafting off of the two of them that brings them into a fit of laughter and Raelle cries out, "Mighty Mushroom Powers activate!"

Abigail lifts their enclosed hands into the air before they pull apart and head for their drinks once more, joking as they do so.

"Wow," a voice says from near the entrance to the training room. "There's some mighty fine training going on here."

Raelle looks in the direction of Scylla's voice and sees her standing with poise, hands in the pockets of her light brown Tarim style pants. She's leaned against the half wall that hides the double doors from the rest of the room. She wears her hair up in a small bun that shows off her long neck and her sharp jaw. Her eyes glint across the room at Raelle, and her mouth is open just slightly in her small smile, her tongue teasing its presence.

The lightness in the air is still there, but Abigail jabs at her. "What're you doing here, Necro?"

Scylla tips her head to the side, "Haven't you heard, High Atlantic?" she asks, her smile growing more and more teasing with every word. "Raelle and I are _besties_ now."

Abigail turns her perplexed expression to her unit member.

"Ignore her." Raelle mumbles as she walks past her and toward the other woman in the room. "Do you just not care anymore?" Scylla quirks a questioning brow at her. "Every time you come on Base, you risk being caught."

"But I'm Tarim." Scylla gestures to her outfit with playful innocence.

"Anyone who knows you can recognize you. Why aren't you using your…" Raelle motions to her face. "Disguise, or whatever you call it."

"Glamour," Scylla corrects. "And I don’t want to come to you as someone else. I told you, I don't want to lie to you anymore. That included."

"Maybe you should." Raelle rubs at her nape. She looks back at Abigail, who stands with her arms crossed, waiting impatiently. "What is it? Did my mother tell you something new for me?"

Scylla shakes her head and licks her lips. "No, I uh, I just…" she shrugs nervously, though her laugh is even more so. "I just came to see you."

"Scyl…" Raelle starts.

"Look," Scylla says before Raelle can say anything else. "I'm not here for any of that, okay? I had a free day to do whatever and I found myself coming here. Don't push me out, Rae."

Raelle looks between electric blue eyes, contemplating. The more she was on Base, the more their plan was in danger, and the more _Scylla_ was in danger. Raelle didn't understand how the girl could make her way through Base so easily without being noticed. But no one ever came into the rough room unless it was mandatory training, though, so her being in there would drop her chances of being caught.

"Rae," Abigail calls from the middle of the mat. She looks expectantly at the blonde, waiting for practice to recommence. Scylla being here wasn't going to stop their training. Now that Raelle had managed to bring the power back and control it just a _tiny_ bit, Abigail wanted to also.

"Okay," Raelle sighs. "Yeah, okay. We're, uh, training though, so, um.."

"Yeah, no," Scylla waves her hands towards Abigail, "Go do your thing."

"Right," Raelle feels awkward, her hand reaching to the back of her neck once more. She follows the line of Scylla's jaw down to her neck.

"Collar!" Abigail pulls her head around like a string tied between the two of them. "Drink some water since you're so thirsty, and get your head in the game!"

Raelle marches back to her unit leader, spewing profanity at the girl as she walks past her and grabs her Scourge from the ground.

"What's that all about?" the taller girl inquires.

"Tell you later."

They're back at it, once again; back to swinging and turning and dodging and sparing.

"Wait!" Abigail stops them one time. She feels the surge just as Raelle had, only hers fades the moment they stop. "Shit."

"So what is this that you're doing then?"

Raelle spots Scylla much closer now. She sits on the floor at the edge of the blue mat, watching them intently.

"Nothing the Spree should concern themselves with." Abigail barbs.

"Day off." Scylla smiles sarcastically at Abigail.

Raelle sighs. She's not sure why, but she decides to tell Scylla about the Mycelium Wall connection and Witchbomb. She shouldn't. She doesn't trust Scylla. She doesn't trust her as far as she can throw her with a lot of things anymore, but she wants to tell her everything.

"When you were—" she starts, but the door to the room echoes open.

Raelle's eyes shoot wide as Abigail looks to Scylla with a panic in her eyes that would surprise Raelle if she had the mental capacity to take notice in anything but the fear of Scylla being caught. Scylla stands and rushes to the wall nearest her, simply facing it like a child in time out.

It's all they can do before the figure steps into sight, though when they see who it is, there's a twin sigh of relief. Scylla turns away from the wall when she hears Anacostia's booming voice.

"Bellweather Unit," she says before spotting the Spree agent. "Scylla, in what world is staring at the wall a good way to not look suspicious?" Scylla shrugs. "Why do I bother telling you when and when not to come anymore?"

"Glad we're on the same page now." Scylla remarks facetiously.

"Did you need something, Sergeant?" Abigail asks.

Anacostia is close to the unit now; close enough for Abigail to catch the way her jaw clenches anxiously.

"I have some orders for you two." The authority in her tone is outweighed by the hesitance.

"Orders?" Abigail repeats.

Anacostia nods. She glances quickly at Scylla, who has joined the three soldiers on the mat now. "We've discovered the location of a nearby Camarilla group and I have been assigned to lead the strike against them. Alder has ordered that you two also be part of it."

Raelle's stomach drops. Be a part of another Camarilla encounter? She barely made it out of the first one. She _shouldn't_ have made it out of the first one. The Camarilla had already killed her once, and now, only a little over a month later, she was being thrown into another attack against them?

"No," Scylla is the first to speak. She steps closer. "No, Anacostia, if I had…" Anacostia gives her a warning look before she can finish.

_If I had known this would happen, I wouldn't have told you._

"We're supposed to be in War College." Abigail points out. "No War College student ever gets deployed or assigned to any operation until they graduate."

"You're different." Anacostia reminds them.

"We're a weapon, remember?" Raelle spits, dropping her Scourge to the mat and pacing, hands on her head. "Alder is going to throw us into everything she can."

"We don't know how to use it." Abigail informs her sergeant. "What are we supposed to do?"

"I know," Anacostia nods her head. "I told Alder this, but she's ordered it. You will be part of this, ladies."

"This is bullshit!" the indignance in Raelle's bravado resounds through the large room, like a gong calling forth the Gods to witness the injustice forced upon the young Cadets.

But the world is full of injustice, and this was a small example not worthy of the attention of the Gods.

"Why are you a weapon?" Scylla is still stuck on the beginnings of this encounter. She's so far out of the loop of things within the walls of Fort Salem, she doesn't understand anything happening. Anacostia never told her anything about anything, and it's showed since yesterday's mention of the Tarim.

What all had she missed while being tortured and sent away?

She's ignored, however, as the soldiers continue.

"Does my mother know about this?" Abigail asks.

"Petra is out on her own assignment," Anacostia tells her. "I don't believe she knows."

"When are we doing this?"

Anacostia looks between the two girls, swallows, and lifts her chin, "Tonight."

 _"Tonight?"_ the three teenagers echo one another.

"Don’t over work yourselves in here," Anacostia orders.

Raelle is frozen, staring at Anacostia, but not truly looking at the woman. She's thinking. Alder demands that she and Abigail go off and risk their lives once more, despite being in War College now. They have given and given, and the Army keeps taking selfishly. It had taken Tally's youth, it had been the first to take Raelle's mama from her, it had taken her away from her pop. It had taken her life.

And what had she receive in return? Nothing but nightmares, PTSD, and a short future.

If they were doing this, they were going to get something it return.

"No," Raelle says gruffly. "It ain't gonna be that simple."  
***************  
She doesn't bother knocking. Raelle is fuming when she barges into the general's office, Anacostia's stern warning too far behind her for her to listen.

Alder, who stands in discussion with two of her Biddies, turns quickly at the loud _bang_. Raelle stomps toward her and she raises her eyebrows at the aggressive state of the girl.

"We are not doing this strike unless you give us Tally back." Raelle demands, stopping feet away from the ancient woman.

Alder looks from the furious soldier in front of her to Abigail and then to Anacostia, who are both just coming in.

"Private Collar," Anacostia warns, her words sharp as broken glass. "Stand down."

"No," Raelle refuses. "No, I'm not doing this bullshit until our Unit is whole again. So either you find another sorry soldier to replace her, or I'm sleeping in my bed nice and cozy tonight."

"Soldier," Alder's tone is heavy and hard; a paperweight to the discussion. "Your participation in this mission is not on the table for negotiation. You will be part of this strike team tonight, no questions asked. There is no other outcome than that, so I suggest Sergeant Quartermaine send you out before your mouth gets you into trouble. We are not in China anymore, girl."

Tally watches in horror somewhere behind Alder, half expecting Raelle's head to blow like a rocket. She's all red faced and burning eyes able to melt whomever they hold in their sights. But not Alder. Alder doesn't flinch, doesn't move, doesn't look away; she's the statue of centuries of experience, standing strong and sure.

"Come on, Collar," Anacostia grabs Raelle's shoulder and jerks her around before pushing her toward the door. Raelle obliges begrudgingly with white knuckled tight fists.

"My apologies, General." Anacostia dips her head in apology.

"Go." Alder says stiffly.

And they are gone.  
*************  
"President Wade," Alder greets when the president steps in with her black suited body guards. "It's a pleasure."

"Sarah." Wade says shortly and indifferently.

"I hope your trip here was comfortable." Alder tries for small talk.

"It was alright," Wade says. "You had something you needed to speak to me about, yes?" There was no care for small talk today.

Alder nods, "Yes. I did," she stands tall. "We need to discuss a way to handle the Camarilla. They are very powerful and have made several attacks within the past month, leaving trails of witches corpses wherever they go. These are terrorists attacking the Army, and if I'm being frank, Madame President, I have not heard you address the matter in any recent press conferences since I informed you of their return."

The moment the accusation comes, Wade herself straightens and prickles like a porcupine.

"I have not brought the Camarilla up to the press because the moment the Nation finds out about this, all hell will break loose." She tells the general. "Chaos will ensue and there will be even bigger problems to face."

"Madame President, we must do something about this as a Nation. If there is a way to pick them out through the rest of the population, then we must consider it."

"And what do you suggest we do?" Wade asks gruffly.

"To start, we should let America know that there is new terrorist group to be watchful of. With that, we have eyes everywhere to call if they see anything strange. Enforcing Martial Law for even a month could snuff out threats, so we should consider such matter."

"Martial Law?" Wade deadpans. "You must be joking. We never enforced Martial Law because of the Spree. That would no doubt raise questions to the people. Why would we have Martial Law because of a civilian organization, but not because of a witch organization? There would be riots and destruction."

"Madame President," Alder tries again.

"Don't be ridiculous," a bubble of a disbelieving laugh pops through the president's lips. "Just like with the Spree, you don't know what to do. These people are hiding in plain sight, disguised as normal civilians. Don't make it sound so easy when it's not."

The Biddies all around them click their tongues at the president, who acts as though they aren't even around. Tally stays silent. Alder is ready to protest, but President Wade steps backward until she's at the greenhouse doors once again.

"Keep me posted, General."

When the president is gone, Alder and her Biddies stand silently for a moment, mulling over everything going on.

"Bring me Anacostia."  
***********  
Anacostia finds Izadora in the Mycelium room, taking notes and observing the large living wall.

"Iz," she steps beside her and eyes the mycelium as it swirls like the bird's eye view of a hurricane.

"It's just so odd," Izadora says while scribbling words into her notebook. "This Mycelium has been vital only for Fort Salem all this time. It takes its nutrients from Fort Salem and it helps to bring life to Fort Salem."

She points her pen to the woman beside her and looks to the fungi in front of them. "Do you remember right before our last Beltane?" Izadora recounts. "When Biddy Lewis died and parts of the base began to die as well?" Anacostia nods. "The Mycelium would have absorbed the death and nurtured the land itself with time, bringing life back. Kept the cycle going."

"But?" Anacostia urges, sensing one coming.

"But it's only specific for Fort Salem. And only Fort Salem land. The way it just… found its way to Raelle, and in turn _Abigail_ , on the other side of the world is… new."

"Have you figured anything out with this? Something that could help us tonight?"

"This is such a mystery to me," the necro teacher muses, stepping closer to the wall. "It's fascinating."

A thought crosses Anacostia's mind. "So you're saying this Mycelium is one of the cores of Fort Salem. Could this mean that—since it seems to have linked with Raelle—she is now attached to Fort Salem as well?"

"Nothing is certain," Izadora says, looking back at the other Sergeant. "But that is one possibility."

"How can we find out?"

"The blood tests of Raelle and Abigail are slow coming, but when I get them, I may have more answers."

"Or more questions." Anacostia mumbles.

Izadora chuckles, "Yes, that's possible too."

Izadora catches the way Anacostia tenses and brings her finger to her ear. In seconds, Anacostia looks up at Izadora, "Alder is asking for me."

"Better to not keep her waiting. Go on." Izadora waves her farewell as Anacostia turns for the door, leaving her alone with the wall once more.

She watches it, willing it to give her answers.  
***************  
Raelle and Abigail prepare for the strike only hours away now. The moon outside was lowly bright and eerie tonight, creating a bleak atmosphere in the dimly lit room. Abigail checks and rechecks her equipment; sits on the bed and examines her Scourge; counts her Salva, despite not needing it this time; and repeats the act over and over again. A nervous habit.

Raelle, having just come out of the communal showers, stares at herself in the full-body length mirror. Her wet hair is loose and braidless and she's in her uniform pants and a dark grey sports bra. Her medal dangles against her chest, gleaming the words _War College_ but meaning _Combat Infantry_. She looks at her chest; at the bare skin teasing just behind her bra.

With unsteady fingers, she pulls back the cotton material. In full view in the mirror, Raelle stares at the thick vertical scar. The mycelium may have healed her, but it couldn't take back that she was _stabbed_. And now, every time she saw it, she was brought back to the scorching day and the scorching blade sliding through her chest and draining her of life. Every time she laid her eyes on the angry raised mark, her breath fell short and her victimized heart stuttered and panicked.

She could hear Tally scream and see Abigail's windstrike. She could feel the sand hit her face as Abigail threw herself to her knees beside her. She could see the dark, black eyes of the Bellweather full of intent, and then drained of energy as she refused to break the Link. She could taste the blood in her mouth and feel the gurgle in her throat as she tried to laugh at Abigail's death confession. 

She could feel her life force leaving her.

"Rae,"

Abigail's soft voice brings her back from the sound of the helicopter rising and leaving them in the desert. She peels her eyes from the mirror and drops her hold of her bra. Abigail, standing beside her now, rests her hand on the shorter girl's shoulder gently.

"It'll be okay," she says with a light squeeze. "I've got your back, okay?"

Raelle tries for a smile and places her hand on top of her sister's. Her voice is hoarse and broken, "And I've got yours, Bells."

The door to their room swings open with no warning, and the two girls dart their attention to the newcomer. Tally stands at the doorway with a smile on her face.

"Did you really not tell her?" Abigail shoots a hard glare at the redhead.

Raelle sighs, "I didn't think she'd do it again." She shuffles to her closet and grabs and undershirt. "What is it, Scylla? And please, you can be anyone else, just not Tally, okay? It's weird."

"Scylla?" Tally's voice is genuinely surprised at the name. Her golden eyes are big and confused as she looks from one soldier to the other.

The three of them stare at each other for a dragged out five seconds before Abigail lifts her finger to point at the redheaded girl. "Scylla?"

Tally's head shakes slowly, her eyebrows together in a frown. She points to herself with the hand not carrying a large duffle bag.

"Tally Craven."

Abigail and Raelle look at one another, an identical emotion slayed on their face before they simultaneous rush to their final unit member and bring her into a tight embrace.

"Oh my God, how?"

"What happened?"

"Alder really did it?"

They had somehow manage to step farther into the room without separating. Raelle trips over Tally's duffle, which is dropped in order for her to take in the double hug and all of its intensity, but that didn't even pull the three apart.

"Easy there," Tally laughs brightly. Goddess, they missed that sound _so much_. "I was just 60 years old, I'm still feeling all the tight joints and arthritis."

They finally pull away, bringing the youthful, bright eyed, glowing red haired, shining Tally fully into their sights again.

"What's going on?" Abigail asks, wiping at her eyes.

"Come on now," Tally gestures to the floor. "Let's chat then."

Tally tells them of the shift in Alder once Raelle had entered and gone off half cocked on the General of the freaking Army. She had always sensed that Alder knew she couldn't keep her, and just after she had someone call upon Anacostia to find a new volunteer, "She told me my powerful gift was of better use after more training in War College, and my true place was with my Unit. You guys. My sisters."

"So Alder does have a heart." Abigail jests.

"Guys, she's not so bad." Tally defends heartily. "Being in that head of hers is stressful. She's got a lot of things to consider in _everything_. I tried to put my two cents in as much as I could, though."

"You were trying to get her to do an alliance with the Spree?" Abigail asks. "Anacostia told us."

"I was, yeah. But I still don't know how it will work. Sergeant Quartermaine and I were communicating the whole time, but she couldn't tell me anything specific. Just in case Alder caught it."

"So you know nothing?"

Tally shrugs, "I guess not. Like, why did you call me Scylla when I came in?"

Raelle and Abigail catch Tally up on everything after the China deployment: Anacostia letting Scylla out; Scylla coming back and telling Raelle her mom was alive and part of the Spree; Izadora and Anacostia planning this alliance using Raelle's connection to two members of the Spree.

Raelle finishes the story off with her recount of her night on guard duty and her talk with Scylla.

"So that's why were so _energized_ for training, huh?" Abigail teases with a nudge of her foot at Raelle's crisscrossed legs.

"Shut up," Raelle grumbles. "It wasn't like that."

"So," Tally starts. "Do we like Scylla?"

"We're working with Scylla. That's it." Raelle simplifies. She doesn't see the way Abigail gestures to her with her eyes and mouths _yes_ to an anticipating Tally.

Raelle sniffs away tears, Abigail laughs effortlessly, and Tally soaks in the energy she's missed for a month. The stress of the upcoming strike temporarily gone, they take in this moment in its fullest. They were complete once more, and they were going to make the most of their time for as long as they could allow before the reminder of what was to come brought them to their feet and back to fidgeting over their supplies once more.

"She brought you back right on time to die." Raelle squeezes her hand.

"I wouldn't want it any other way." Tally says with a smile that earns a laugh from the other two. "You do have that bower bird's foot, though, Raelle?"

"Oh, rest assured, I'm pinning it to her damn skin this time." Abigail promises.  
****************  
Tally and Abigail sit on opposite beds; Tally on Raelle's bed, and Abigail on her own lone bed. They make light conversation about Samhain coming up, Yule, what it was like to be one of Alder's Biddies, and more.

Raelle sits on the floor against her bed, leaning into the frame as Tally braids the side of her hair for her. A small journal rests on her bent legs and a pencil is in her hand. She's not involved in the conversation. She's focused on the right words to put on paper. The right words to say to her pop if…

If she doesn't make it back alive with time.

He was left with nothing but a broken heart and another flag when he was flown here for her first funeral. If it came down to it again tonight—or ever, for that matter—she wanted him to have something. To have _someone_. The letter did not mention Willa. She didn't deserve him, and Raelle knows that if he found out she was still alive, he would be much more forgiving than her. Her mama didn't deserve that.

But Scylla.

The way he spoke about Scylla and the two times they had been together, he had already fallen for her. Just like Raelle knew he would when she had planned to introduce her girlfriend to him at graduation. While Raelle couldn't trust the girl with her heart and her truths anymore, she trusted her to bring comfort to her pop. So giving her blessing to him to see Scylla was the least she could do as a daughter leaving the world before her parent.

She wanted to make sure he knew it was okay to be happy. She scribbled down the ingredients of Phoebe from up the hill's ointment for her rash on the back of the letter, so at least that could help with some bills. She hoped they wouldn't withhold her own death pensions because he was a civilian.

She writes her final words, tears the paper out, and starts her next one.

_To Scylla,_

This one would be harder for her.

How can she write a goodbye letter to someone when she doesn't even know how she feels anymore? When all of her emotions jumbled together when she even _thought_ of her? The way her heart pounded in its place like she was bringing her to life, but killing her simultaneously? The way her lungs would constrict and she struggled to breathe when the brunette held her tongue between her teeth as she thought or teased, and it infuriated her because she didn't want such a tiny action like that to affect her the way it always did.

She wants to make sure Scylla knows it's okay to see her pop; that it will be good for the both of them. She wants to tell her that, though she hadn't forgiven her for her betrayal, she wanted to. She _really_ wanted to. She wants to tell her that she loved her. That no matter how hard she tried to stop, she never stopped loving her. She wants to write that there's no doubt in her mind that her last thought in her last breath was about the mischievous twinkle in her beautiful blue eyes and her lingering scent that Raelle had once found her next home in.

She finally brings the pencil to paper, when there's a knock on their door. They all stop what they're doing and it's so quiet now that the sound of a hairpin falling to the floor would have echoed through the room.

They still had another hour, no?

Was it time?

The door is slowly pushed open to reveal Scylla Ramshorn, standing in her Tarim disguise. She steps in quickly and closes the door behind her.

"Raelle," she voice is shaky with worry as she bites her lip. "I uh, I wanted to see you before you…"

"Yeah," Raelle's throat is dry. She quickly closes the leather journal and sets it beside her.

Scylla looks at Tally with a small smile, "Hi Tally. It's been a while."

"Yeah," Tally shrugs like her next words are an every day occurrence. "I did just get un-Biddied, so…"

Scylla's brows are practically connect. "Oh? Oh… Um… Congrats?"

"Thanks."

The room grows awkward as everyone waits for Scylla to continue. She had hoped that Raelle would be alone, but she knew it was unlikely; and there was no sign that neither of the other girls were leaving them alone. She was going to have to do this with an audience.

With a deep breath to gather up the courage that ran away the moment she was met with the pale blue eyes of the woman she loved, she starts.

"This won't take long." Scylla assures. "There's so much I want to say to you, Raelle, but no matter how many times I say it, it won't fix anything. You're right about that. But I don't want you to go off on this operation without saying it once more. I love you, Raelle. And I know that I always will, whether you hate me, whether we're friends, or whether you never want to see me again, I will always love you. I'm asking you to please come back tonight. Because I can live with you hating me for what I am, as long as you're _in_ this world to hate me."

Raelle watches, trying to form words, but unable to, as Scylla reaches into her satchel. She pulls the bird's skull charm out of the bag, kneels down beside Raelle, and shows her the gift the blonde had once made for her. "Please take it with you. Wear it _along_ with your bird's foot. Double the protection to ensure a safe return."

Raelle slowly takes the charm from her ex's offering hand. She looks at it; the protection rune, the stones, the thin braid of her own hair she snipped off for the girl who never wore one herself.

"Thank you," she whispers, looking back at the watery constellations in darkened blues.

Here Scylla was, kneeling right before her. All those things she was ready to write in her goodbye letter could be exchanged right here and now. She could tell her goodbye; tell her she did still love her; that hate was a strong word, but _some day_ was a false promise.

But it was the heat of the moment. She was about to head out and may not come back. This was why she wanted to say and do these things, but what would happen if she _did_ come back with a still beating heart? When the storm was over, what then? What would it really change? At the end of the day, she still couldn't trust Scylla in that way, and saying those things would only give Scylla false hope.

"I'll come back, okay?" she says instead.

Scylla could cry right then and there, and maybe she would have, if the door didn't swing open once more with the sound of Anacostia's commanding voice bringing her into a panic.

"It's time, ladies," she says. She gives Scylla a scowl, but does not address her. "Suit up and let's get this show on the road."

Scylla gives Raelle a final glance, as the blonde reaches for her family's charm and stands from the ground. As she walks past Anacostia, she stops.

"You take care of her, okay?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like this chapter! Leave me a comment on what you think!


	9. Link

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellweather Unit goes on the strike operation and Alder gets a reality check.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains violence and mild gore.

The night is cold, but Raelle is sweating in the back of the truck as she and her members bounce with every bump and turn. They haven't spoken a single word the entire drive, their bones rich in nerves from the moment Anacostia had opened their suite door. It was dark, the moon dim; the perfect night to go undetected for a strike.

The convoy is two trucks of soldiers, equaling out to be 18 soldiers for one factory attack. From intel, they knew that there was an estimate of at _least_ ten Camarilla in the building, but there could be more. They were going in blind and dumb and it brought the Bellweather Unit absolutely zero comfort.

The only saving grace in all of this was that Sergeant Quartermaine is a part of this team.

Raelle scratches at her hand, her anxiety feeling like a rash under her skin.

No.

It wasn't the anxiety.

Raelle looks down at her left palm.

It's dark, but she still sees it.

The _S_ is raised and bumpy, and very much there.

Raelle finds comfort in its presence.

She wasn't alone. She had her two sisters with her. She had Anacostia with her. She had 14 other soldiers whom she'd recognized on post, including Bridey.

But Scylla was with her too.

And for the first time in a while, Scylla's presence doesn't bring her sadness or anger, or an empty feeling in her heart. She brings her relief.

The trucks slow to a stop outside of town and the soldiers get out. Gathered together, Anacostia briefs them on the operation once more. With the belief that the Camarilla would mostly be sleeping, with several guards, they were to go in quietly and eliminate the hostiles. The goal was to make this quiet and make this quick.

It that wasn't the case, they were to aim at their target's throats and chests and take out their faux voice boxes as fast as they could.

They walk in silence under the camouflage of darkness, walking in two lines; one on either side of the road with eyes everywhere.

When they reach the once abandoned shoe factory, there are multiple guards manning the doorway and the perimeter. They're taken out by a couple of Sergeants.

Quiet and quick.

The platoon branches off into three squads: Alpha team to the back door, Bravo team to the front door, and Charlie to hold tight and keep watch for anything suspicious nearby. If things went south, two of those in Charlie would join inside.

It was Anacostia, the Bellweather Unit, Bridey, and one other Sergeant in Alpha waiting at the back door waiting for Bravo team's signal to move in. When it comes, they open the door and step in.

Inside the building is almost pitch black, but Raelle can make out outlines and silhouettes through the lighting allowed by the stars and moon. It's one large open room and Bravo team can be seen entering from the other side of the facility. There are cots here and there lining the walls, and from the make of it, bodies in most of them.

Anacostia is the first one to make it to a sleeping figure. She pulls her knife out, rips the blanket from the body, presses her hand over the enemy's mouth, and slices through their jugular.

The sight brings Raelle a bit of relief.

She's had an itching feeling until now that the Spree may have been leading them into a trap. It was dumb to think that the Spree would work with the Camarilla, but it gnawed at her the entire way here up until this moment as deep red drips from the cot and onto the concrete floor.

"There are more up there." Tally whispers to Anacostia as Bridey takes out the next body. She points above them, at the second floor. It's an overlook for—what Raelle imagines—the owner of the shoe factory to watch over his workers. There's a small office as well, with a steel staircase leading straight to it.

"How many?"

Tally gulps. "More than ten. But they're still sleeping."

"Bravo," Anacostia whispers with the press of her finger to her ear. "Targets on the second floor. Numbers are up. More than ten. Take them out. We'll join you when we're done down here."

Bravo team moves toward the stairs.

Raelle is standing over a cot now, knife griped tight in her hand. She reaches down to remove the blanket when there's a loud crash above them. Next thing she sees is a figure flying over the railing and landing with a loud _crunch_ ten feet away from her.

"WITCHES!" a voice screams from the second floor.

The whites of the pair of eyes below Raelle are bright in the darkness as they rip the blanket away and roll off of the cot just as Raelle slams her blade into it. There's a high pitched, distorted screech and Raelle is flying back and hard into the wall.

"GO FOR THE VOICE BOXES." Anacostia shouts in the sudden chaos.

There's a ringing in the room now. It's high and painful and it prevents Tally's windstrike from blowing the Camarilla member away from Raelle, who stumbles back to her feet only to be kicked back down hard in the stomach. The redhead swings her Scourge out and the end wraps around the attacker's throat. With a tight pull, there's a _snap_ and the body falls limp to the floor.

Tally bends down in front of Raelle, lifting her to her feet.

"Come on, Rae."

"'m good," Raelle slurs, grabbing her own Scourge from her hip and looking around.

Anacostia skillfully swings and sways around the room in a fluent warrior's dance, knocking enemies on their backs and smashing their voice boxes.

There are a lot more than ten Camarilla.

Raelle rushes into the battle, Scourge glowing angry and active as it swishes through the air and clashes into someone. She fights with Tally beside her, Abigail somewhere further down the room with Bridey. The screeching song is diming, making it easier for some soldiers to force out their own strike seeds. Some Camarilla have moved on to other seeds, throwing their bastardized windstrikes out.

They don't know many seeds, though, and it's quickly realized by the soldiers. Windstrikes, windshears, and other seeds are ping-ponged back and forth, mixed with Scourges whipping around and blades slicing clothes and flesh. Witches versus civilians, one would think it was a one-sided fight; but these civilians have experience.

Raelle windstrikes someone just before they bring their blade into a downed Sergeant. She runs to her, seeing the black vine-like streaks creeping across her face.

The Camarilla are using plague darts again.

"Ask and it shall be given you.  
Seek and ye shall find.  
Knock and it shall be opened unto you…"

Abigail jumps behind them, sinking her blade in the back of a man charging toward Raelle as she does her magic. She turns around at the _thump_ of the body just behind her. Abigail breathes heavily, blood decorating her face.

"Still got those charms on you, yeah?" she asks the Fixer.

Raelle brings her focus back to the soldier.

When she's done, she brings herself back up and whips her Scourge out at the nearest target. She fights on, wondering how it can be that there are still more Camarilla when there were only supposed to be about ten. On the other side of the room, Tally is fighting off two Camarilla.

Focusing, Raelle manages to pull all air from the lungs of one of the woman and she drops to the floor. Raelle then tries to make her way over as another Camarilla member replace the fallen one, but she's stopped by a large, burly man towering over her. She brings her fist to his chest, but it's muscular and solid and he doesn't even flinch. He kicks her hard and she flies back, stumbling to keep herself upright. She brings her Scourge out at him, but he ducks and charges for her. It's a painfully tight grapple and he lifts her into the air before forcing her down to the ground like a wrecking ball to a building.

Only she's the wrecking ball _and_ the building because she swears she feels her entire body crumble and break apart from the impact. She's fighting for air as she sees the man bring his arms together and down at her, but she somehow manages to roll her body away from the attack.

She sucks in a breath and looks up in time see Anacostia's Scourge crack against the man's face. He cries out, spots his next opponent, and lets out a windstrike.

Anacostia isn't fast enough to block, and she's flown far and fast into the wall. She drops ragdoll style to the floor, unconscious. Raelle pulls her knife out of its sheath and pounces on the man. She drives the blade deep into his neck and he falls to his knees and then to his stomach. She stands, heaving; her uniform covered in his blood.

She runs to Anacostia's body.

On the wall is a broken piece of metal, darkened at the tip with liquid.

"Fuck," Raelle panics.

She rolls Anacostia's body to her side and looks at her back. She's drenched in blood already.

"Fuck!" she yells again.

"Collar," Anacostia's voice is strong and Raelle sees her eyes locked on her own.

"I got you, Sergeant," she assures, putting a hand on the small of her back.

Anacostia pulls her arm away. "I'm fine, Collar," she says. "We need you."

Raelle ignores her and puts her blood covered hand back on the wound.

"Raelle, I need you to get back out there and bring it out." She orders. "You and Abigail. And then you come back to me. Finish this."

Raelle holds Anacostia as she closes her eyes.

Raelle stands up and slowly turns around to the fighting all around. Her blood boils as she watches a Camarilla windstrike Bridey, who just barely gets her counter seed out. Abigail stands in the middle of it, trembling fists clenched and the hairs on her arms raised.

She's close.

Raelle can feel it.

"Abigail!" Raelle calls for her. Abigail spins to meet her and brings her hand out.

_Take it._

Raelle rushes over and grabs her hand. The moment they touch, the connection is like a splash of cold water, filling her from head to toe. Almost immediately, she feels ice fire erupt from her and Abigail's linked hand. It's a strong flair of hot white and specks of black, that begins with the link and ends at her other hand. In the back of her head, she hears Abigail's voice.

_Take the Camarilla, leave the soldiers. Take the Camarilla, leave the soldiers._

The room goes bright, and the burst of energy that releases from Abigail and Raelle is infinite. Bodies fly from all corners of the room, but Raelle is surprised to see others standing in place, covering themselves from what they expected to bring them airborne as well. It's fast. It’s a quick wave of light and sound and glass shattering and people screaming.

And then it’s dark with swirls of black lingering in the air, almost cocooning the Witchbomb makers in a protective shield.

* * *

The ride back is solemn and silent. Between the Bellweather Unit in the bed of the truck lie two soldiers.

Dead.

In the other truck are two more. Anacostia sits besides Tally, recovering from her blood loss, but fully healed otherwise.

This was all something that could have been prevented. With little notice before the strike, and very few personnel available for an operation that was barely thought out in the first place, the outcome could have gone much worse, but it should have gone better.

They shouldn't have lost anyone in the first place.

When they are back on Base, the Bellweather Unit along with Anacostia go straight to General Alder. It's nearly daybreak and they're exhausted, but they were awake with words that needed to be heard finally.

Alder is alone tonight, having allowed her Biddies to stay sleeping as she stayed awake with her close band of Sergeants to watch the attack play out on the rock wall in the War Room. Until her eyes and ears was struck down with a blade to the chest, that is.

She stands waiting in her office for the company she knows is coming, though she is surprised when it's not just Sergeant Quartermaine who enters to debrief her.

"Bellweather Unit," she sighs with relief to see the faces of the young unit; of seeing Tally, though a bit banged up, still standing. "I am very glad to see you three. And you, Sergeant Quartermaine. This also means the mission was a success, I take it?"

"A success in some ways, General," Anacostia says. "But a failure in others. We lost four amazing soldiers tonight."

"Yes," Sarah looks down at her desk, taking in the news and pushing her sorrow down for the moment. "They died with honor."

"They shouldn't have died at all." Tally says.

"Sacrifice the few to save the many is unfortunately the way it must be sometimes, Craven." Alder tells her.

"We could have prevented this, General." Raelle says, Alder catches the wet steel blue color in her eyes and the tightening of her jaw.

"And how is that? We couldn't have predicted the exact movements of every person in that facility."

"With an alliance between the Army and the Spree," Tally states, tone factual. "It's undeniable, Sarah, and you know it. We could have prevented these deaths of our soldiers if we had more people to fight with us, and the Spree could have given that to us."

"In what world do you think the Spree would work with us?" Alder prompts.

"My intel came from the Spree, General." Anacostia informs with no shake in her voice, which genuinely surprises her. "From Scylla, who got it from a Spree leader."

"Who is my mother." Raelle adds. Alder stares shock eyed at the young Collar.

"Willa Collar?" she seeks confirmation. Raelle nods.

Alder sits in her seat, soaking in the information like a wet sponge. Willa Collar was alive, and she deserted the Army to become Spree. Anacostia has been in contact with Spree spy Scylla Ramshorn, who had supposedly escaped on her own. 

"You have all been working with the Spree after I told you no?"

"The Spree are open to an alliance, General." Anacostia's palms are getting sweaty. "We just need you to be as well."

"General," Tally comes in again. "I've said it before, I'll say it again. Think about the forces if we came together with the Spree. The amount of able bodies to join us in our fight for existence. With two sides becoming one in order to take down the biggest enemy; this could be one of the most important things we do to protect our race. If the Spree are open to joining with us, this is something huge."

"We could not even trust them," Alder says with wavering strength. "And you have all committed treason for conspiring with a terrorist organization."

"It's very hubris to deny that we _need_ this only because you do not want to work with people who stand against something you believe in. You can't reject this, General."

"I'd like to remind you that you puppeted the President, while we're at it." Raelle says, which garners looks from everyone around. "I'm just sayin' you can't point at us for treason without pointin' at yourself."

Alder looks between the four bloodied and battered soldiers. Raelle's hands are covered in dried blood, along with the front of her uniform. Tally was fairly clean, save for the dirt spotting her and a few scratches. Abigail's face is all red from battle and her eyes are cold and dark as she stands valiantly between her sisters. Anacostia's uniform top is no longer grey at all, but dark browns and red mixture all over.

"Go," Alder orders. "Get yourselves checked at the infirmary. Shower. Get some rest. Allow me to think."

"Yes, General." Anacostia says as she beckons her soldiers out of the office.

* * *

Raelle is finally returning to her room just as the sun begins to greet the morning. She had stayed behind in the infirmary to help Colonel Wick finish healing all of the wounded soldiers. Tally and Abigail had left around an hour ago to shower and sleep.

Raelle needed a shower. She was sticky with dry blood and her head ached from hitting the wall initially. She was sure she was concussed, but while helping Colonel Wick, she had completely forgotten about it. Her body hurt, but it was fine. She could get checked after some sleep.

She opens the door, expecting to see Tally and Abigail sleeping soundly in their beds.

Neither of them are there.

But Scylla is.

She sits on Raelle's bed, her hand running over the pillow. She jumps to her feet at the sound of the door opening.

"Goddess, Raelle," Scylla sighs with worry and relief. Relief that she's okay, because Scylla spent the entire night staring at her palm for any indication otherwise. Worry from the messy sight of the blonde Fixer, face weathered and tired and bloody.

She takes hold of Raelle's shoulders, looking her up and down for any major injuries. She cups her face delicately, examining her tired and heavy eyes. Raelle lets her. She's too tired to object, and the warm and familiar touch brings her a calm like the gentle waters of the lake just down the road from her home in the Cession.

"Are you hurt?" Scylla asks, eyes still searching.

Raelle takes her hand from her face then, holding it gently in her own rough hand.

"I'm fine, Scyl." Raelle says tiredly. "Have you been here the whole time?" Scylla nods. "Where are Tally and Abigail?"

"They went to shower," she tells her. "It's been about an hour, though. Long shower, I guess."

Raelle nods and slowly pulls her blood stained hoodie and jacket off. She winces from the shooting pain all over her back. Scylla helps her to remove the jacket.

"You're hurt." She observes.

"I'm fine." Raelle repeats, rolling her shoulders.

"What happened out there?" Scylla asks when Raelle faces her again. "Rae, you can tell me."

Raelle lowers her body to the floor and leans against her closet. Scylla follows her to her knees.

"It was fine," Raelle's voice is quite. She stares at the wall across from her, "'til it wasn't. And then things got… insane. People died. Anacostia almost died. There was this… huge mountain of a guy… So much blood… Screaming…"

"Hey," Scylla takes Raelle's face in her hands, "Hey, hey, look at me. Look at me, Raelle." Raelle's steel blues lock onto her light ones. "Be here, okay? You're here with me. Right now, in your room. You're okay."

"I…" Raelle reaches to her jacket, eyes still on Scylla's. She manages to remove the charm and bring it between them. "I guess it worked. I prolly shoulda died at least three times." Her laugh is humorless.

Scylla looks down at the skull charm. Raelle was giving it back to her. When she could have kept it, she instead is giving it back to her. Scylla takes it.

"I'm tired, Scyl." Raelle mumbles. She wants to get up, but she hurts. Her muscles scream at her angrily with every movement and she sucks in a pained breath between teeth when her back spasms.

Scylla grabs Raelle again, hands on her neck. "Raelle, please, let me help you."

"I'm fine." Raelle tries again.

"Obviously you're not," Scylla's look is serious and stern when she catches Raelle's this time. "You can't even get up."

Raelle huffs a frustrated sigh. "Do you even know how to do it?"

Scylla cocks her head to the side and clicks her tongue impatiently. "I did go through Basic, Raelle. Necros aren't incompetent in all other fields."

"Right."

She wraps her hand around Scylla's wrist again and holds her gaze. "This won't change anything, Scyl."

"I don't care," she responds. "I just want you better. I can't see this."

Raelle squeezes her wrist, then drops hers to the floor again. With a nod, Scylla scoots closer and closes her eyes, focusing all of herself on the rhythmic flow of Raelle's blood running in her veins.

The images speed by.

  
_Raelle lies in a comfy bed, staring up at a wall of letters._

_Scylla sits in the back seat of a car, classical music coming from the speakers._

_Raelle rides around in the mud on a green four wheeler, laughing and smiling._

_Scylla sits in sand by the calm waves, watching her mother and father hold hands and kiss._

_Raelle heals an older lady on her bed as they both recite the Pagan scripture._

_Scylla hides on the cold concrete of the garage, hand covering her mouth, tears pouring down her face._

_Raelle stands in front of tornadoes._

_"I'm Scylla."_

_The way her heart flutters when she sees Scylla smile is new._

_The way her heart skips when Raelle bites her lip is new._

_"I'm Raelle."_

_"I know a way"_

_Scylla kisses Raelle and her heart skips. She goes in for more._

_Scylla is surprised by the way she loses her breath in the kiss._

_Raelle slams her into the wall and her heart_ soars.

_Scylla gives in immediately and her head is in the clouds when nimble fingers are inside of her._

_Raelle wraps her arm around her girlfriend from behind. She dips her head into the brown hair of the sleeping girl. Amber and Spring breeze._

_"You're amazing," she whispers to the unhearing girl._

_"You're amazing," she hears in her ear._

_Her eyes stay closed. She doesn't want this moment to end._

_When she does open them, the mirror is the first thing she sees. Her heart drops just a little more._

_"You ready for Beltane?"_

_Scylla smiles and Raelle feels the butterflies._

_"Are you sure the dance will lead you to me?" Scylla teases._

_Raelle pulls her into her arms._

_"There's no one else it could lead me to."_

_Scylla feels the butterflies the way she feels the soft lips on hers._

_"Hey, beautiful." Raelle wraps her arms around the Necro from behind, catching her walking down the hallway to her suite room._

_Scylla spins herself and wraps her own arms around the blonde's neck._

_With Scylla's famous mischievous smile, "How was training? Wear you out?"_

_Raelle smirks. "Not even close."_

_They blindly walk to Scylla's room just doors away, lips hungry and fingers hungrier._

_"Hey, beautiful."_

_Raelle's greeting is behind her, but her hand is in front of Scylla, holding an assortment of colorful flowers. Scylla spins around and Raelle holds the bouquet out for her._

_"Where did you get these?" Scylla's smile is as sweet as the smell of the flowers._

_Raelle charades plucking a flower, "Just picked the most beautiful flowers for the most beautiful girl."_

_Scylla's heart swells at the stupidly cute smile on her girlfriend's face._

_"No matter what happens, I love you."_

_Raelle almost says it back. Why didn't say it back?_

_The clock chimes six times, yet Scylla is confessing instead of delivering._

_It doesn't matter._

_Raelle was safe._

_Scylla may be dead after today, but at least Raelle was safe._

_"I still love her."_

_"I know."_

_"Raelle is dead."_

_Scylla's heart plummets and her world crashes away._

They come back to the quiet room together.

"Shit," Raelle breathes.

Scylla wipes a tear away quickly before Raelle sees.

The lingering emotions from the Link hang between them like a curtain of tension and unspoken words.

"Better?" Scylla's voice is barely audible.

Raelle rolls her shoulders, feeling no pain at all anymore, "Thanks. Are you okay?"

Scylla shrugs, feeling the tightness in her entire body from the energy it took. "It's worth it."

_You're worth it._

"Have you two kissed already?" Abigail's voice is on the other side of the wooden door. "Can we go to sleep yet?"

"Abigail," Tally's voice scolds. "Love can't be rushed." Now louder, as though she wasn't waking up the entire floor already, "Take your time, guys!"

"No, don't. I'm fucking tired."

* * *

Izadora sets her notebook on her desk and sits down. Hands clasped and chin resting on them, she goes over her new notes. 

Her eyes scan the words she's read and reread so many times already, and she pulls her hands apart and takes a sip from the warm mug.

Certain words grab her attention every time.

_Takes energy._

_Giving power._

_Mycelium absorbs plague?_

**_Symbiote_ **

Izadora recalls just hours before; the way the wall had turned black, just as it did two other times, all connected to times when Raelle removed the plague from someone. The first time this happened, it took a couple of days for the wall to go back to its normal grey. The second time, it was quicker; maybe only about an hour until Izadora discovered it had changed back to normal.

This time, she stood in the room and _watched_ as the black plague drowned the wall. Only 30 minutes or so after, the wall glowed a bright white, like a light shining from inside, and it was restored to its untainted color.

If Izadora was right about her theory, she would most certainly have more questions than answers.

* * *

Scylla walks into the house. She was tired, but so awake now. And so sore. Yet, when she walks in, there's a smile on her lips and a comforting flip in her stomach.

Until she sees Willa, standing in the living room, face grave and arms crossed, waiting for her.

"What?" Scylla feels like a teenager having just been caught sneaking back into the house after a night of unapproved adventure. This would be when she'd get grounded and have phone privileges' taken for a week.

"You heard about the Camarilla stakeout." It's not a question, though Scylla's sure she couldn't know this.

"What?" Scylla plays dumb, once again like a teenager having just been caught sneaking back into the house.

"Don't play dumb," Willa steps closer. "No one else was in this house when I was told about it. But you were."

Scylla's smile is long gone and the feeling in her stomach is far from comfortable. "So what if I did?"

"You told somebody in the Army." Willa states. "And now the Spree know."

"Know what?" Scylla asks slowly, the uncomfortable feeling getting stronger.

Willa's blue eyes are nothing like Raelle's in this moment.

"That you're a double agent."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it!


	10. Unbroken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are back in Fort Salem and Circe building throws a party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has taken forever to write! I hope you like it!

The skillet sizzles. Scylla watches the egg cook, staring blankly at the way the edges slowly brown. Her vision doubles as she loses focus and her mind clouds over. Thoughts dull her senses. The same thoughts that swirled around her every day for over a week now.

How was Raelle doing? Was she okay? Was she safe?

Was Alder going to do the alliance?

Was the Spree going to kill her or not?

Willa had assured her multiple times that this would not happen. She had managed to keep her safe from the Spree's furious grasps for now somehow, but she wasn't out of the doghouse yet. They thought she had turned into a double agent, spying on them and relaying everything to the Army. While it did sound like that, it wasn't entirely the case. She did pass information to Anacostia, but it wasn't to benefit the Army; it was to benefit witches. To keep _witches_ from going extinct from the Camarilla's return.

The Spree had found out she passed the information over to the military, but they hadn't taken her to a dungeon and tortured her for information. They weren't planning on executing her—that she knew of. Willa had managed to convince them she was doing it under her command. The other leaders seemed to accept this, but Willa told her to stay low and off of the Spree's radar anyway until a hopeful response from Alder about the alliance. So Scylla was grounded. Indefinitely.

She barely left the house, only to run errands occasionally. Staying under the Spree's radar meant staying away from Fort Salem, which meant staying away from Raelle. She hadn't seen or heard from Raelle since right after her attack on the Camarilla base. Once Tally and Abigail returned to the room, they gave her a rundown of everything she'd missed, and then she went on her way, back to the Spree to be locked away like Rapunzel until it was safe for her once again.

She wanted so badly to trace that _S_ on her palm every day, but what was the point? It was selfish of her to think of doing so. Raelle wanted to get over her, and Scylla was in no position—with being grounded from seeing her—to bring her closer. There was the Link she had created to help heal Raelle from her injuries. The emotions she felt from Raelle in those short patches of memories simultaneously put her heart back together and broke it. She felt the love and the happiness in them, and it hurt her because Raelle had put her everything into their relationship while Scylla was under cover, pretending to be something she wasn't. While Scylla quickly fell for Raelle, she fully understood where Raelle was coming from in her anger and her hate.

She didn't deserve Raelle.

Raelle didn't deserve someone so misleading like her.

So she didn't contact her.

She did, however, keep in touch with Anacostia. Anacostia kept her up to date with the goings on at Fort Salem, and Scylla let her know she was still alive and safe. Scylla believed that if she was truly in danger, the sergeant would come in for the rescue, though Anacostia would never admit to this. She did tease the older woman plenty about it though, and it brought a smile to her face when she'd hear her groan in her ears.

"Scylla!" Willa's shout pulls Scylla from thoughts. Scylla catches the smell of smoke and looks down to the skillet to see a charred excuse of an egg.

"Shit," Scylla hisses and removes the skillet from the stove top.

"Scylla," Willa rushes forward to take the skillet from her and Scylla moves to sit on the island in the middle of the kitchen. Willa faces her after throwing the skillet in the sink. She sees the slouch of her shoulders and the furrow of her brows. "What is with you?"

Scylla doesn't respond. She's looking at her palm, rubbing small circles with her thumb. Willa's sigh is full of understanding. "Honey," she says with care. "You need to think of other things. You put so much of your attention on things you can't control and it hurts you. Do you think I don't think about my daughter all the time too? But I also have to focus on other things. On the Cause, on the Spree, on my life. And so do you."

Scylla's voice is low but clear. "The last time I saw her, she was so out of it. She looked traumatized… I wanted to be there for her, but then I come back and I'm stuck. I could have been there for her, but you took that from me."

"I saved you," Willa tells her. "If I didn't give you the benefit of the doubt and I hadn't done what I did, you would be dead right now. Or worse. And even with my word, they still don't fully accept it. _This_ is lucky. But Scylla," Willa's tone drops, "We were going to handle the Camarilla base. But you told Anacostia and the dominoes kept falling. She wouldn't have been in that situation at all if…"

Willa drifts off, not wanting to finish her cruel statement.

But with a sharp edge to her tone, Scylla finishes it anyway.

"If I hadn't said anything, yeah thanks, Willa. You think I don't know that? I put her in a situation where she could have been killed. I know this. You don't have to remind me."

"I'm sorry," Willa genuinely means it. She steps up to Scylla and places her hands on Scylla's knees, "Look, if I'm being completely honest, I think what you did was good. The other Spree members aren't too happy about it, but I understand, and I hope it helps.

Scylla looks at Willa, mouth parted with shocked confusion. "Wow. You're taking my side?"

"The Army finding out that the Spree gave them information on a Camarilla location could be beneficial to us, is what I'm saying." Willa rephrases. "Knowing that the Spree just helped them may bring them to this alliance."

Scylla scoffs. "It's Alder."

Willa grimaces, "That it is. So let's not get our hopes up too much, yes?"

* * *

The busses slow to a stop in front of the command building. The door to the first bus slides open in front of the General and Witchfather steps out and onto the street. He has a soldier's professional smile as he looks across from him at General Alder.

With the bang of his palm on the metal of the vehicle he'd just been in, the line of male soldiers leaks out and into formation.

"Witchfather," General Alder says when he reaches her. They grasp one another's hands in a shake. "It is such a pleasure to see you. Thank you for coming."

"Thank you for calling us back," Witchfather says. "Things are changing fast."

"They are."

Witchfather nods to her before stepping back and facing his soldiers. His voice bellows out into the sky, loud and commanding, "Alright boys. We are here indefinitely. While here, you will be making weapons and assisting your female counterparts with whatever they need of you. You will also be training along with them, understood?"

The chorus of deep voices is louder, "Yes, Witchfather!"

"Find your suites and take today to settle in. Dismissed!"

With the relief command, the large formation disperses and the boys run off to the suite building made available for them. Witchfather joins General Alder once more. Alder motions with her head for him to follow as she begins her journey across the street and down the colorful field.

"How are things going out there?" Alder asks.

Witchfather sighs, "It's not good, Sarah. As you know, there have been three more attacks in just this week. The last one was a bit too close to our Base than I was comfortable with, so I'm very glad you summoned us."

"A war is brewing, Witchfather," she says matter-of-factly. "It's best to be prepared for what seems to be coming. We need each other within arms reach now more than ever."

"You couldn't be more right, General."

"I have had a lot of thinking and strategizing to do this past week." Alder says this carefully.

"Do tell." Witchfather urges.

"My latest intel tells me that the Camarilla's numbers are strengthening exponentially by the day. So many of our soldiers have already lost their lives and more names keep piling up on my desk. We need the numbers, Witchfather."

"I don't understand where are you going with this, General." Witchfather looks questioningly at her, waiting for clarity.

Alder pauses for a few seconds before finally saying what's on her mind, "I'm thinking about forming an alliance with the Spree."

Witchfather stops dead in his tracks and the newest Biddy almost runs straight into him. He's staring wide eyed at Alder when she stops and turns to him.

"Sarah," he says cautiously. "You cannot possibly be thinking this."

"I have been mulling it over for over a week now," she responds. "Much longer, actually, but I've been taking it more serious recently. I received intel from the Spree themselves about the location of a Camarilla operation base extremely close to Fort Salem, and with this information, we went in and took care of the threat. Who knows what other information they could have that we need. With them on our side, we could turn the tables on this returning parasite to the Nation."

Witchfather stands rigid. "Can we trust them, Sarah?"

Sarah doesn't answer his question. "I must discuss things with the Hague, but I do believe this is the best option to win this war."

"Don't mistaken my shock with disagreement, General," Witchfather insists. "I will trust in your decision, whatever it may be. But do you think President Wade will be as understanding? She will not allow something like this."

"That is why Madame President will not know about it." Alder says simply.

Witchfather processes this. "Do you really think she will not find out?"

"I think it won't be the first time she's been out of the loop." Alder answers.

Witchfather nods his head slowly, taking everything in. "Yes, alright. Tell me more, Sarah. How do we do this?"

* * *

Raelle sits on a leather chair in the rec room, watching as Abigail and Tally play pool with Glory and one of her unit members. Watching, but not watching. She sits and stares at the game going on in front of her, but her mind is everywhere _but_ on it. She's exhausted. Drained.

Her nights were just as sleepless as before, but maybe more so now. When she closed her eyes at night, images poured down on her like a tropical storm. A body falling from the second floor; Anacostia, bloodied and slumped over; black plague climbing up a soldier's skin; a colossal man slamming her into the floor.

A blade pushing through her chest. A screaming Tally. A dying Abigail. A terrified little boy.

Scylla's spring blue eyes trained on her as she flinches from every movement. Her tender hand on Raelle's back desperate to relieve the taught and spasming muscles that trembled underneath her touch. The memories that flowed between, and the emotions that haunted her core.

She barely got any sleep anymore. And when she did, the terror of her screams and cries woke her and her bunkmates. Every time.

So as Abigail and Tally enjoy their free time, Raelle is slowly getting lulled to sleep by the comfort of the cushiony chair and the sounds of the cue ball hitting stripes and solids.

"Well if it isn't lesbian Jesus herself risen from the dead." A voice near her ear causes her to jump and open her eyes again. Byron comes into view in front of her as he plops himself onto the chair in front of her. With Raelle in his sights, he makes a face and looks her up and down. "Though, not by much. You look like you've been through the ringer, girl."

Raelle scoffs, "The ringer sounds like a vacation. What're you doing here?"

Byron brings his arms out regally, "We have officially moved in until further notice."

"Oh?"

"Byron!" Tally's attention is away from the pool game and she bends over to give the man a hug from behind. "It's great to see you!"

Byron stands up and returns the hug. "What in the Bengamin Button is happening! You're sexy again!"

"Oh, I wasn't sexy as a Biddy?" Tally teases with a bright smile.

"Oh Tal," he cups her face sweetly. "You didn't look a day over 65. Gerit still woulda tapped that, trust me."

"Yeah, well that's not happening anymore." Tally ensures "I'm off to new things. That _aren't_ married."

"Good for you!" Byron says. "So what, Alder just dethroned your Biddy status? I didn't even know that was possible."

"Neither did she," Tally tells him. Raelle's already heard the story more than once and closes her eyes again, imagining slee as Tally retells the story.

"Raelle, it is so great to see you." Byron brings her eyes open once more. He kneels in front of her, his hand on her knee and a sincere look in his light eyes. "How about we don't die next time, okay?"

"Oh, she won't," Abigail says, bent over the pool table with her shot in sight. She hits the cue ball, which then connects to the solid blue 2. It rolls into the corner socket with a groan from Glory. "I'm waiting for her to finally start sleeping again so I can pin that bird's foot to her skin so it can never come off again."

Raelle rolls her eyes.

Byron once again scans Raelle's tired body and heavy eyes. "Honestly, Rae, when was the last time you actually slept?"

"It's not like I'm not trying." Raelle shrugs. "I just can't do it for long."

"You know there's stuff for that."

"Yeah," Raelle points to Tally, who's currently threatening to flash Glory as she aims her shot. "It's party night. The weekend before Samhain. Gonna be a lot of booze to help me tonight."

Byron wants to protest that that's not what he meant, but there's no use and he knows it.

"You need another pick me up. When was the last time you got laid?"

Raelle only looks at him with unamused blinking eyes.

"Too long. I can smell it on you." Byron's eyes sparkle with excitement. "So tell me about resurrection, Rae. I'm _dying_ to hear it."

"Funny." Raelle chuckles dryly and shifts to a more comfortable position before she begins her tale.

* * *

The walk is about ten minutes with little conversation and comforting silence. The weather has cooled drastically in just a week, but Abigail's uniform keeps her warm. Adil is dressed in more layers than her, draped in tans and browns with a makeshift hood to protect from the cold breeze. It reminds Abigail of Scylla's outfit.

"So a Spree agent by the name of Scylla has been running around Base in Tarim clothes," she tells him, watching for facial reactions. "Do you know anything about that?"

"Khalida trusts her," he says calmly. "And I trust Khalida."

"You don't know why?" Abigail inquires.

Adil shakes his head, "I don't. Just trust that she knows what she's doing."

Abigail blows out a breath. "Alright."

"I want to show you something." Adil says when they reach the other side of Base.

This is the part of Fort Salem that Abigail has barely ever set foot on; past the commissary and the PX and the gym, and into the on-post housing and other more private buildings. These houses contained Drill Sergeants and instructors and others with their families. There is a larger building with a sign in front of it reading _Fort Salem Fosterlings_ , and a large park down the street from it with a few pre-teens gathered around the swings, chatting and laughing together.

Adil stops them in front of a few houses in the back end of a neighborhood. They are small, single level houses with no cars in the driveways and curtains drawn over the windows. Adil looks at her with a small smile and leads her down the driveway of the larger of the small houses and through the pale blue painted door.

The first thing Abigail notices when she enters is the naturalistic scent wafting toward her. The smell of fresh dirt, and rain wetted grass makes her feel a calmness she wouldn't expect in a new environment with no clue what she was doing there. It was warm inside compared to the cool Fall breeze outside.

With her rough hand in his much smoother one, Adil leads her through the house, past the living room where she catches Khalida sitting cross legged on the floor with closed eyes, unmoving. There is a door leading outside once more in the kitchen, and this is where Adil takes her; through the door back into the cloudy atmosphere. The backyard to fenced off with wooden panels, allowing privacy from all sides. The yard is not big, but it is not small either.

Adil takes her to the middle of the grassy yard, and without a word, lets go of her hand and brings his arms down in front of him, palms to the ground. With quite humming, the ground around Abigail begins to quiver.

She watches as the ground around her rise and rise until they are cocooned by rock and grass and earth from all sides.

Adil then puts his hand against the rock and a handful of it separates from the wall as though it were just an item on the rack to purchase at a store. He closes it in his hand and just a minute later, he opens it back up to reveal something that brings a gasp from Abigail.

The jagged chunk of rock that was just taken from the wall around them is now smooth and curved and carved into a beautiful lioness statue. He gives the carving to Abigail, who traces the details of its face and eyes.

"You are a lioness, Abigail," he tells her. "Strong, powerful, protective. And when you're with your pride, unstoppable. Beautiful."

Abigail looks back at Adil. He looks at her with soft and sincere brown eyes.

"This is amazing, Adil. _This_ ," she looks back at the carving, "is beautiful. What you just did is beautiful." She looks around them at the wall of nature separating them from the rest of the world. "I feel like I'm in an episode of Avatar, right now."

"This is just a piece of our gifts," he says. "I brought you back here to show you what we can do, and why—"

He's cut off by the sudden drop of the wall as it settings back down where it was meant to be. Abigail yelps as she's thrown back when the ground below her juts up. Before she can scramble back to her feet, the ground around her comes up and over her in a dark enclosure. It begins closing in on her, giving her less and less space to move until she's pinned to the grass by dirt and rock and roots.

"Why it is imperative that the Army does not learn our songs." Khalida's calm voice is heard from somewhere outside of the cocoon. Abigail's view is opened up again as everything around her levels out and the ground around her is back to its seemingly untouched form. Abgiail stands back up on wobbly legs. Khalida steps out of the kitchen's open door and joins Abigail and her brother on the grass, barefoot.

"The Camarilla are killing witches and stealing their songs. If the Army learned ours, the Camarilla would also have them and that will change the course of this coming war drastically. Against us."

"Alder wants us to help her with this fight, but she doesn't understand that _this_ is our best way to help." Adil says, reaching Abigail and checking her now dirty body for any cuts or scrapes.

"Why are you showing this to me then?" Abigail grunts as she pats at her uniform. She will have to make sure _not_ to tell her unit about this, or she'll never hear the last of the teasing. "What can I do?"

"Understand." Khalida says simply. "And trust us. We will be there when we are needed. But this is not the way."

* * *

Music blasts down the busy halls of the Circe building. Soldiers linger in the halls and in opened rooms, allowing a passerby to join the groups already sitting and drinking all kinds of drinks. The building's recreational room, which is normally empty as everyone tends to spend their time under the sun and the clouds outdoors, is packed with drunken and buzzed men and women. Some sit on the couches and chairs, conversing and joking; others are sitting on the floor around the coffee table playing a card game.

In the middle of the room is a group surrounding a long table. Six red solo cups on one end of the table and three on the other, the small ball flies from fingers, through the air, bounces on the table once toward the middle cup before getting swatted away by a quick hand. There's a roar of overenthusiastic cheers from Raelle and Byron, and groans from Tally and Glory, who stand on the losing end of the beer pong game.

"Come on!" the two girls yell simultaneously. Tally's voice is loud, "That's not fair! It was gonna go in!"

"Them's the rules!" Raelle tells her as she high-fives Byron.

"You can't give it us?" Glory exclaims, leaning against her best friend with her hand out and pointing at the perfect triangle of cups on Raelle and Byron's side. "You're kicking our ass already!"

"You can still make a comeback, ladies," Byron says matter-of-factly. "Can't give you that chance, can we?"

"Exactly!" Raelle says.

"Tal, if you two manage to win this round, I will love you forever." Abigail says from the side. "Please get these two idiots out of this game finally."

"Nope!" Byron says right before he tosses his ping pong ball across the table. It misses. "We are going to go undefeated tonight!"

Raelle flicks her wrist with her throw and the ball sinks into the beer filled cup farthest to the right. Tally groans, but removes the ball and brings the cup to her lips to empty. Raelle smirks, "Damn right."

"This is cheating," Glory says, looking to her teammate, then to Abigail and Adil. "They hustled us!"

"That ain't cheatin'," Raelle says, drinking from the bottle of beer she got after realizing she wouldn't be drinking much from the game. She was definitely tipsy. "'s playin' smart."

The game ends with one more circulation to Raelle and Byron, who sinks the ball into the final cup with finesse.

"Alright, you know what?" Abigail says as she and Adil step up to their side of the table now. "If we win this time, _you_ ," she points to Raelle, "Have to go talk to _her_ ," she then points to the small table on the other side of the room. Sitting in the group of witches is a brunette with dark eyes, who holds her gaze on Raelle even after Abigail points her out. "She's been ogling you since we walked in."

"Think she's trouble?" Tally says, mischief playing on her face.

"Gotta be," Abigail smirks. "Raelle attracts trouble."

"You guys are dumb." Raelle shakes her head, looking away from the pretty witch and shooting a daggered stare at her unit members. "Let's start already."

"We got a deal?" Abigail continues, however.

"Fine, yeah. Deal."

Raelle doesn't notice the way Abigail and Byron exchange smiles.

She does notice the way Byron misses every single one of his throws. She's pulling the team by herself, and the couple across from her are only losing by a cup. When they make their final shot, leaving Raelle to down the last cup of beer, Bryon is grinning from ear to ear.

"Fuck," Raelle says under her breath.

"Alright, pay up!" Abigail bellows smugly. She gestures to the girl playing cards. "Go on. Get some!"

Raelle glares at Byron when he hands her another cup of something much stronger than beer. She gulps it all down in one breath and slams it onto the table before starting for the other side of the room, only slightly annoyed. She snatches the freshly poured cup of alcohol from Byron's hand as she passes him.

The girl is cute, even from a distant, half-covered-by-someone-else view. The closer she gets, the more freckles she notices on blushed cheeks. Her lips are thin and her button nose is scrunched from the drink she had just lowered back to the table. Her dark eyes look up at her and Raelle catches the way she sucks in a breath and a single thin eyebrow twitches upward. Raelle sits in the space between her and the boy beside her.

"Hey," Raelle says with a crooked smile, sweet charm oozing from her tone like molasses. "Cool if I join?"

"Yeah," the girl's voice is feminine and confident. "Absolutely."

Raelle settles herself and then smoothly scoots closer to the girl. The alcohol in her system making her bolder. "I'm Raelle."

Raelle has forgotten her name an hour later when they stumble down the hallway connected by their mouths and greedy hands. The brunette's kisses are wet and sloppy and Raelle tastes the vodka on her lips as she bites hard on the lower one, earning a whine from the girl. Raelle doesn't hear any of the wolf whistles or the cat calling from drunken witches they pass, and she definitely doesn't hear Byron _woot_ from the opposite end of the building.

They push and pull one another until the stranger stops them at the room door 437, where she opens the door and almost trips into it when Raelle steps them in without notice. The room is empty, her unit members still in the rec room. When the door closed, Raelle spins them and slams her into the wall beside the door.

The breath that is forced out of her sounds familiar to Raelle. She leans in and takes her mouth once more with hungry kisses. Her hands are on the other witch's belt buckle in no time and slips it undone in a second. A quick flick on her fingers on the button and it's popped open as well. Raelle's hand slips into the dark fabric and fingers reach wet folds.

_"Tell me."_

_Hot, panting breaths hit Raelle like a summer wind in a speeding convertible. She could live off of it in this moment, but the pulsing part of an untouched neck was calling her name. She bends her head down and bites down before adding her slick tongue to the meeting._

_"Let them train you," Scylla manages to say. "Let them make you powerful. The way over is under."_

_They dip and rise with the way Raelle works her fingers. Their lips are centimeters apart again, sharing breaths and living in the heat between them._

_"Okay," Raelle knows there's more coming, and she's going to have fun watching Scylla squirm through them as her fingers work a new pattern._

_"The way out is…" the slightest of moans escapes her throat. Her eyes are closed and she bobs her head forward._

_"Is in." Raelle finishes just as Scylla does._

Raelle's hand rips up and out of the new girl's pants like she's just put her hand in fire. She takes a step back, her head on a swivel as she grounds herself back to reality. Her heart is pounding in a completely different way than it had been just seconds ago.

"What's wrong?" the girl in front of her is blurry in her double vision.

She can't get the image of Scylla coming undone out of her brain. Of the way her moans sent Raelle to the top of the highest mountain where she could scream her pleasures to the heavens. Of the way she felt between her fingers; wet and needing.

She didn't even know this girl's _name_.

"I gotta go." Raelle says before she quickly opens the door and leaves the room. She stumbles down the corridor once again unaware of the watching eyes of everyone who had just watched her enter the room minutes ago.

"That was quick." Byron says teasingly when she passes him without even a glance. Abigail elbows him hard.

"Sometimes you gotta realize things the hard way." Tally says, watching her friend turn right into their room.

Raelle doesn't realize what she's doing until after she's tossed most of her bedside drawer's content onto her mattress and the book Byron gave her after Beltane is in her hands.

* * *

Scylla is woken up by an incessant _tap tap tapping_ on her window. Groggily, she rubs her heavy eyes and squints to the window. Something moves outside of the second story windowsill, but she can't focus her sleepy vision. She slowly slides herself off of the bed and to her feet, following the continued tapping until she's at the glass.

On the other side of the window is a small blue bird. Around the bird's foot, is a roll of paper tied with a piece of string.

Scylla pulls the window up just enough for the cold night's air to send a shiver through her body. The bird hops inside and into the warmth of the room.

"Hey there, little guy," Scylla says, touching the bird's head gently. It looks up at her and tweets. "What do you have there? Is that for me?"

Scylla unties the yarn from its foot and it doesn't wait a second more before hopping back outside and flying away. Scylla shuts the window.

She unrolls the paper, and with the light of the moon, she recognized the handwriting on the six worded message. Her heart jolts and her breath catches in her throat.

_I need to see you now._

It's not a question of _if_ she should sneak out and see Raelle, it was a question of _how_ was she going to sneak out and see Raelle. She wasn't locked away in her room, but she didn't think leaving through the front door was the smartest option. There were too many creaky steps in this old house and it would wake Willa up.

She recalls the night she went to the kitchen for a late night snack and found Willa standing at the kitchen entrance when she closed the refrigerator with a handful of food.

She looks to the clock by her bed.

00:54

She had around five minutes before the next bus pulled up to the bus stop. She needed to get out of here _now_.

With quick movements, she slips on her Tarim style clothes and makes a split second decision to open the window wide. She looks out to the ground below her. It wasn't too far of a drop. She could land in the bushes and prevent any ankle sprains or other injuries.

"This is so stupid," Scylla whispers to herself before sitting on the windowsill and dangling her feet off the wall. "Here goes nothing."

She lands with no problems and makes it to the bus stop _seconds_ before the bus leaves.

The ride feels longer than usual as her mind whirls with possibilities of what this could be about. Did Raelle have more things to yell at her about? Did she want to talk about what happened during their Link? Was she wondering where she had been the past week? Was it more information about the alliance?

Scylla doesn't know what to expect and she doesn't know if she should be terrified or what, but when the bus stops a block from Base, Scylla leaps off and heads in the direction of Raelle.

She finds the girl sitting on the steps of the Circe building. Judging from the music blaring though open windows, the witch soldiers are having a party, as expected of Circe.

When Raelle sees her, she stands up quickly and loses her balance, wobbling a bit and catching herself in a slight angle. She's been drinking, Scylla easily notices.

"You've had a good night, I see," Scylla says with mirth.

Raelle shrugs, "Not bad fer th' mos' part." She steps forward, closer to Scylla.

Scylla furrows her brows, "Maybe we should take you back inside."

"'veryone's up there. They'll recognize ya."

"I can worry about that," Scylla says, reaching toward Raelle, who is stumbling once more. "They're probably all as drunk as you are anyway. They won't even notice me."

"No," Raelle objects when Scylla's arms anchor her. "Don't wanna go in. Wanna stay out here with you."

Scylla's heart swells. The corner of her lips twitch upward and nods at the focused light blue eyes staring at her. "Okay," she says. "Okay, we'll stay out here then. Some fresh air will do you good anyway."

"Not out here in public though."

Scylla looks around at the emptiness surrounding them in the middle of the night. "Alright. I know where to go."

The walk seems to sober Raelle's walk. The further they walk on fields in the cool Fall air, the less galumph her steps are the steadier they get. 

"Where have you been?" Raelle asks as they walk.

Scylla contemplates telling her, but chooses to do so. No more secrets, right?

"I am grounded," she says, her hands picking at each other in front of her. "The leaders found out I was the one that told the military about the Camarilla base and so they think I'm a spy."

"Shit," Raelle looks worriedly at her. "What are they doing? Have they hurt you?"

Scylla shakes her head, "Willa has managed to keep me safe. She told them some lie about her ordering me to do it. But I'm still being watched and I'm still not exactly supposed to be out of the house."

Raelle realizes what this means. "So I've put you in danger by asking you to come here…"

"It's fine," Scylla gives her a small smile, "Don't worry, everything will be okay."

It's quiet again until they reach the large Grand Oak tree. Raelle looks up at their spot.

"Y'know," she says, her voice sounding more sober now. "I could barely even look at this spot after everything happened."

Scylla nods sadly. "I've caused so much pain for you, Raelle. Hurting you is dumbest thing I've done."

"You did hurt me," Raelle says. "I felt broken. Didn't think I'd ever find the pieces again. I still haven't." Scylla swallows the lump in her throat. "Cuz you have some of them."

"Raelle…" Scylla turns to her, ready with another round of apologies that would changed nothing. Raelle holds her hand out to stop her.

"Wait," she says. "Scylla… I've spent this whole time tryin' so hard to hate you. You lied to me. You used me. You manipulated me. You hurt me." Scylla looks to the dark ground when her chin starts quivering as she fights her emotions. Raelle's hand is on her chin, lifting her head back up so they are looking at each other. Scylla feels like she may drown in the oceans of Raelle's intensity. Her breath is shallow and her skin burns so good from the simple flesh to flesh contact of the blonde's finger and thumb on her face.

"But you never lied about loving me," she continues. "I didn't wanna admit this. I didn't wanna believe it. Cuz if I thought you _didn't_ love me, that it'd be easier for me to get over you. It'd be easier for me to stop loving you. But it ain't. And I can't deny it anymore. I see it every time you look at me. I feel it every time you speak to me. I _know_ it from the Link. And from my Pop. He loves you so much already, by the way." She chuckles, and Scylla lets out her own breathy laugh, feeling a weight lift from her chest. "If he knew how long this has taken, I think he'd beat my ass himself."

"Raelle, you're drunk," Scylla says with a hint of sadness. "Don't say anything you'll regret in the morning."

Raelle glares at the Necro. "I know what I'm doin'. Don't undermine what I'm 'bout to tell ya'."

Scylla nods.

"I love you, Scyl," Raelle finally confesses, strong and unwavering eyes on watery ones. "I haven't stopped. I love you so damn much that it physically hurts me to not be with you. I can't see myself bein' with anyone else the way I was with you. I don't _wanna_ to be with anyone else."

Scylla catches the way Raelle nervously reaches her hand back to scratch the nape of her neck. Suspicion forms its way out of her mouth with a quirked eyebrow and an amused tint in her voice.

"You slept with someone, didn't you?"

Raelle's expression breaks into a guilty frown. "I didn' sleep with anyone, but tonight…"

Scylla takes a step forward and cups Raelle's cheek. "Hey, it's okay. You could have slept with as many people as you needed to make your way back to me."

Raelle steps even closer now until they are pressed chest to chest, and brings her hands to either side of Scylla's head. She brings their foreheads together and Scylla closes her eyes at the intimacy of it. The smell of alcohol is strong on Raelle's breath, but her words are no longer slurred and her next words almost make Scylla burst into tears.

"I'm in this with you," she tells her. "Whoever you are, whoever you were. I'm in. No matter what happens, no matter what anybody else thinks."

"I'm with you." Scylla finishes. "Come here."

She's about to lean the last couple of inches to kiss the woman she would never stop loving, but Raelle pulls away.

"I threw up about an hour and a half ago. And I've got beer breath. I'm all gross, Scyl."

Scylla laughs, her smile truly genuine. "No, you're not."

Before Raelle can object again, Scylla pulls her in and captures her lips. They fit together like two pieces of a puzzle waiting to be completed. Scylla is a lightweight with Raelle, having been deprived of her for months. She's quickly drunk off of the way Raelle feels in her hands, and her soft lips, and the long and slender hands that always find their home on Scylla's neck and nape when they kiss. It's a tender, longing kiss; nothing like the aggressive and angry one that Scylla bled over weeks ago. Raelle is no longer the typhoon enveloping her and drowning her in the death trap, but a calm and delicate water that meets her island with love and tenderness.

Maybe the ocean and the island could be together after all.

Kissing Scylla is like coming home again.

Kissing Raelle is like seeing color again after a life of blacks and whites.

When they part, they hold each other in an embrace; never wanting to let go again.

"You do kinda taste like vomit." Scylla says quietly and full of tease. Raelle's laugh shakes the two of them.

"Can you stay the night?" she asks.

"You want me to sleep with you in your bed with High Atlantic and Tally there?"

"What other option is there?" Raelle shrugs.

Scylla doesn’t even think about Willa coming into her room in the morning and finding her gone. She'll face the consequences later.

Abigail stays with Adil, and Tally rooms with Byron that night.

Raelle sleeps peacefully thought the entire night with Scylla in her arms.


	11. Truce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after with Raelle and Scylla. Raelle needs to talk to Edwin. Alder has a big move to announce. Raelle has a mycelium date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took sooooo long! I have other things I need to focus on, so these final chapters may be slow coming! I hope you like this one!

Scylla is woken up by a light touch on the nape of her neck. It's gentle and could put her to sleep once more, if she had forgotten where she was and whose finger it is that was tracing the ram shaped mark that shined a dark blue. Scylla stirs, enjoying the familiar touch that she wasn't sure she'd ever feel again. With the movement, Raelle leans forward and presses her lips softly to the mark that seemed to shine brighter than usual.

The sun greets the Earth, leaving the room lit in an orange tint. The birds chirp outside of the window, and Scylla can almost pretend they _weren't_ in the Circe suites in Fort Salem if she closes her eyes again.

Instead, she rolls over and faces the blonde, whose ocean eyes are calm and inviting; sleepy and bright.

"Hey you," Scylla says with a smile plastered on her lips. At her voice, Raelle's own lips curve upward into an equally happy smile.

"Hi."

"How'd you sleep?" she asks Raelle. Her hand comes up and cups the girl's cheek. "Super hungover, or just a little bit?"

Raelle lets out a small chuckle. Her voice is heavy and rough from sleep, "Just a little. Nothing I can't handle. How are you feeling?"

Scylla's big smile turns into a smirk as she watches the change in Raelle's eyes. "A little sore. Nothing I can't handle."

"Should I change that?" Raelle's arm wraps around Scylla's waist as she leans in to capture the brunette's lips in a kiss.

Scylla almost falls into it. It's so easy for her to lose herself in the scent of this woman; alcohol soaked or not. She playfully pushes against Raelle's chest, against her own desire; stuck between wanting to continue where they were too tired to go on last night, and wanting to just take in Raelle and the cute way her hair is sticking up in random directions and the sleepy, squinty eyed smile, and the slow rhythm of her chest rising and falling with each breath.

"Give me a break," Scylla says with a sweet laugh. She pecks Raelle's lips quickly. "It's been a while. I need a moment to recover."

Raelle nods, the smile still there and the twinkle in her eyes brightening when she looks at the deep blues staring back at her. They lie there for an unknown amount of time, just staring at each other; memorizing each and every dip and curve of each other's faces once more. They could have been there for mere seconds, or for ten minutes, they don't know. They don't care.

Scylla's hand runs down Raelle's cheek, past her neck and to her bare chest, her eyes following; drawing every detail into her brain. Her fingers feel the raised skin over her heart before Scylla's gaze catches up. It's a vertical scar, lighter colored than Raelle's pale complexion. Scylla had noticed it just barely last night in the dark before Raelle closed the distance between them and kept their bodies together for most of the night.

"This is where…" it's not a question, and Scylla doesn't want to finish the statement. Especially with the way Raelle's breathing becomes unsteady. "Hey," Scylla coos, lifting herself enough to reach down and place a delicate kiss to the old wound that almost kept her away from Scylla forever. She leaves a trail of kisses from the scar up her chest, across her neck, and to her jaw, "it's okay, baby. You're fine, okay? Everything is fine now."

Her hand is back on Raelle's cheek as she sees the unfocused and distant look in her eyes. She holds Raelle's face in both her hands now. "Raelle, look at me. Stay here with me, okay? You're safe. Here with me."

Raelle's pupils resize as she brings her attention back on the necro. It's a little bit longer before her breathing settles once more and she's back in the room, cuddled up to the woman she loves in the morning light.

"I lost you for a second there," Scylla says quietly. A soft, worried smile waits for an _okay_ from the blonde.

"I'm okay," she says, pulling Scylla into a hug. They lie there silently, taking in each other's energy until Raelle speaks again. "This is the first night I've slept through without induction since coming back. And without nightmares."

Scylla holds onto the ethereal girl, listening to her heart beat in her chest. "Maybe you should have me overnight more often, then."

Raelle chuckles silently before they lie wordless once more. It's comfortable, and Scylla slowly begins to drift back to sleep at the beating of Raelle's heart and the warmth of her skin in the chilly room.

"I can't keep hidin' my mom from Pop." Raelle's quiet voice brings Scylla back. She shifts in her place against Raelle and looks up at the face and the eyes that stare up at the bottom of the top bunk. "I been keepin' it from him and lying to him every time we talk on the phone. I can't keep that up. I'm not like her."

Scylla nods her head understandably. "He deserves to know. He's such an amazing man."

"He really loves you, too, Scyl. You got a way with the Collar's don't you?"

Scylla scoffs, "Willa only tolerates me because of you. I find every way I can to get under her skin."

Raelle laughs, but she cuts herself off quickly when she remembers something. "Shit, you're not s'posed to be out of the house, Scyl. You're gonna get caught."

Scylla shrugs, "Willa won't tell the leaders. I'll tell her I was with you, talking about this alliance thing."

"Ugh, don't even talk about that crap with me." Raelle groans.

Scylla suddenly smiles slyly as she adjusts herself on Raelle. "We don't have to at all," she peppers kisses down Raelle's jaw and neck once more, making her way south. "You had your fun last night. It's my turn."

Raelle doesn't object as Scylla rolls on top of her and nips at her hips playfully. Her legs instinctively part as Scylla gets closer to her destination, the blanket pulled fully down now. Scylla leaves a tender kiss on the mark between Raelle's legs, sending a shiver up the blonde's body. Scylla smiles, always loving the way Raelle couldn't help but react when she touched the mark. She gives the mark more attention, taking advantage of this moment just as Raelle loves to take advantage of the easily accessible mark on Scylla's neck.

"Scyl," Raelle groans, her hand tangling into Scylla's hair. "Stop the teasing already, dammit."

"Yes, ma'am." Scylla says, bringing her mouth to Raelle's needing center.

Raelle's moan is cut short when the door to the room opens and Tally and Abigail stop in the doorframe, wide eyed and staring.

"Oh my Goddess!" Tally exclaims, her hand shooting up to cover her eyes.

Scylla is quick to pull the covers up with her as she lies down beside her girlfriend, but Abigail's stupid smirk, paired with her next words, tells the two on the bed that she wasn't quick enough.

"There's your answer, Tal," Abigail says, hitting Tally with the back of her hand. Tally's fingers spread and her dear-in-headlights eyes are visible through the gaps. "That shit is shiny as hell."

* * *

It's hours later and Scylla has returned to the Spree house. Judging by the bird Raelle found tapping on her window holding a flower in its feet half an hour ago, Scylla was let off the hook by her mom. Now, Raelle had other things she needed to focus on.

She stands in front of the communal telephone attached to the wall in the hallway, her hands at her sides, pulling on her sleeveless shirt. She'd been standing here for five minutes now, not daring to make another move. How was she going to do this? How was she supposed to call her dad and just tell him that his wife was still alive and part of the Spree and didn't bother telling them she wasn't dead for two years now? How can she just throw this information at him over the _phone_ like she were just telling him how her day went?

This wasn't right in any way. But it was eating her alive, and she couldn't keep this secret from him anymore.

She wasn't her mama.

With a weighted sigh, she finally takes the next step and pulls the cold plastic receiver from its place. Bringing it to her ear, she hears the long beep waiting for her to push in the set of numbers.

Her fingers run over the phone number she's called plenty of time since she came to Fort Salem.

The line rings three times and Raelle thinks that maybe Edwin is outside working on the truck. She's about to hang up, when the next ring cuts short and she hears her dad's voice in her ear.

"Edwin Collar here."

Raelle opens her mouth, but no words come out.

"Hello?" he offers once more.

Raelle closes her eyes and urges herself forward, "Hey, Pop."

There's a quick change in Edwin's tone; jovial and tender. "Rae, how goes it? Been, what? A little over a week since I heard from ya."

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry, I just been doin' a lot, what with trainin' and—"

"Say no more. Don't gotta explain yourself to me. Just glad to hear your voice." Raelle can hear her dad plop himself down on the couch. "Everythin' goin' alright?"

"Uh, yeah," Raelle says, twirling the phone's cord in her fingers. "Actually, you'll be happy to hear this, Pop. Scyl and I are kinda back together."

"Well hell, Rae, it's about damn time, ain't it!?" his voice bellows brightly over the phone and Raelle can't help the smile on her face as she pulls the receiver away from her ear. "That girl loves you like I ain't ever seen before. Thought I'd have to fly back over there and talk some sense into you if you didn't stop bein so damn stubborn!"

"Pop," Raelle laughs, "Blame yourself for that. I get the stubborn from you."

"Hmmm," he hums. "Nope, I think that's from your mama." Raelle's chest flips with dread. "How long?"

"Huh?"

"How long ago did you two get back together?"

"Oh," Raelle rubs the back of her neck nervously, "just last night."

"And how is she?" Edwin asks, a smile clearly on his face, even obvious over the phone.

"She's doing good, Pop," Raelle says with a small smile despite what the call will soon turn into. "We're both doing real good now." Her smile drops quickly with her next words. "Listen, dad, I have to tell you something."

Edwin can hear the change in her tone. "Everything alright, Rae?"

Raelle sighs harrowingly. "No. There's something I found out that you need to know… And over the phone is not the way I would like to do this, but…"

"What's goin' on?"

Raelle doesn't know if she can do this. Not over the phone. Her dad finding out that his wife is alive and well while he's alone in the house with no one to be there to comfort him? Raelle had Abigail when she found out; even Anacostia was someone she could seek comfort in. Edwin had no one to catch him when he'd fall. And he would definitely fall. But there was no time for her to fly out for him. There was no vacation coming, and training was too intense to leave for a few days. Alder wouldn't allow it.

So she had to do it over the phone and she had to do it now.

"Mama is still alive." She rips the Band Aid off. No beating around the bush, no warning, no slow pull. Her eyes are shut so tight that they hurt. Her grip on the receiver is tight enough that it wouldn't be a surprise if she crushed it before Edwin could react to the sledgehammer she had just swung his way.

It feels like hours that Edwin doesn't say anything, and Raelle can't take it. "She's alive, Pop. She's alive and she never tried to come back to us. I've wanted to tell you for a while now, but I didn't know how to do it. I'm sorry."

The silence is agonizing. Raelle's heart pounds in her chest as she waits for her father to finally say something. After what feels like forever, she hears him clear his throat before his croaky voice finally breaks the silence.

"How do you know? Have you seen her?" he's quiet and hesitant and Raelle's eyes burn with tears at the image of her father, red-rimmed eyes and shaking hands in a lonely house.

She nods her head, though he can't see it. "Yeah. I saw her. Twice now. Dad…" Raelle takes a deep breath. "She's Spree now. She's a leader of the Spree."

It's another long pause before her dad speaks, "You sure about this?"

"I am. She willingly left us and never came back to us. I can't ever forgive her for that."

"I need," Edwin starts, but pauses once more, thinking of what to say. "I need to think about all of this. I don't know what to think, Rae. This is… this is too much to process right now."

"I get it," Raelle says, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. "I think you should come to Fort Salem. I'll buy you a ticket and we can talk about this in person. I don't like you bein' alone after this."

"We can talk about this later, yeah? I'm gonna get some fresh air and… figure things out."

The first trail of tears fall loose from Raelle's eyes now. "I'm sorry to put all this on you like this, Dad. I love you."

"Love you too, Rae."

And the phone goes dead.

Raelle sets the receiver back in it's place and she leans her head into the booth.

"Shit."

* * *

The door to the room opens and eight pairs of booted feet enter in step. Sitting facing the door, the woman in the armchair crosses her legs as the eight women get closer. They stop just behind the empty armchair.

"Sarah Alder, please. Sit."

General Alder carries a tight smile with her taught shoulders. Wordlessly, she steps around the furniture and sits slowly in the armchair just feet from the woman.

"It is definitely a surprise to see you," Alder says slowly, tilting her head to the side. "I had heard you were back, but it's like seeing a ghost. I can't say it's a pleasure to have you here, Willa."

Willa reflects her own tight lipped smile back at the General. "Yes, well, the feeling is mutual. But we meet on what I hope to be good news."

Straight to the point.

Willa sits straight and tall in her spot, unmoved and nowhere near looking intimidated by the centuries old Army General.

Alder lifts her chin at Willa. With an emergency trip to the Hague meeting yesterday after discussing such with Witchfather, Alder and the other world's witch leaders had spoken, argued, and come to a conclusion after tireless hours, before she returned to Fort Salem.

"As you know, with the Camarilla's return, we have already so many dead witches on either side. The Spree have suffered, the military has suffered. And while I would normally never even _entertain_ the idea of allying with a terrorist group, I, as well as the other world leader, have decided that this alliance is our best option to go up against the stronger than ever Camarilla."

Willa now tilts her head, her hands clasped in front of her. "I agree," she says. "However, we have some conditions for this."

Alder was expecting this. "As do we."

* * *

The room is full of Generals and trusted sergeants: General Petra, General Clary, Sergeant Quartermaine, Sergeant L'Amara, Witchfather, and others. They surround the war table in the dimly lit room; the large, seeing-stone hangs on one wall while the Biddies all sit against another. The door closes behind Major Holke, who is the last person expected to join this conference of sorts.

"Thank you all for coming on short notice," General Alder says to the small crowd of uniformed people. "This, as you all know, is a top secret meeting. Everything that is said in this room will be kept in this room and none of this information will be given to anyone that is not currently in here, understood? This means that _President Wade_ will be kept out of the loop."

If there is discomfort coming from anybody, they do well to hide it as Alder looks each and every sergeant and officer in the eye before continuing. "After much discussion with the other members of the Hague last night, we all came to a unanimous decision on what to do about the Camarilla's growing forces and our divided people. We cannot win against an invisible enemy, who only shows themselves during the attack, unless we come together as witches. I am talking about the military and the Spree."

Everyone in the room continues to stand or sit wordlessly. Some of these people already knew what was coming, or maybe even had this thought themselves without outwardly expressing it.

"We all have one common interest: survive. Do not let witches become extinct. We cannot allow such a flame of hate, that was once thought to be extinguished, reignite and burn every last one of us on a stake until we are nothing but a chapter in the history books."

Izadora and Anacostia share amused looks when Alder is facing the opposite side of the room.

 _Dramatic,_ the looks say.

"So with official declaration, I am telling you all now, that starting today, we are under a truce with the Spree."

General Clary is the first to object, and unsurprisingly so. "General, you cannot be serious. My daughter was _killed_ by those monsters."

"We have all lost someone to the Spree, my child," Alder says softly. Sympathetically. "Just as they have all lost people to the military. This was a difficult decision to come to, trust me, General. But this is also a _necessary_ decision."

Petra places a hand on Clary's shoulder comfortingly.

"There are terms and conditions both sides have come to," Alder continues. "First, the Spree will no longer harm civilians or put a bad name to witches as they have done so in the past. There will be no more murders or civilian deaths ordered by leaders of the Spree. In return, the members of the Spree will not be punished for running and avoiding Conscription. In fact, when this is all over, I will do my best to modernize the rules and terms of Conscription. After much thought on my part, perhaps we can do without forced entry into the military."

The meeting continues for over an hour as Alder answers questions and explains everything.

"Spree members will be coming on base occasionally to train with our cadets," she tells them at one point, causing the biggest shift in the room.

"If the cadets know about the Spree, how is this supposed to be a secret held in this room, General?" Witchfather asks.

"The details of this alliance are to be left between us," Alder explains. "But this cannot be hidden from the entire Army. I will tell them in the auditorium tomorrow. Cancel training and classes for the day."  
********  
The meeting ends with the moon high in the sky and the crickets calling out. Izadora and Anacostia are in Anacostia's office, Izadora heating tea for the two of them.

"We did it," Izadora says, pouring the tea into two mugs on Anacostia's desk. "What now?"

Anacostia smiles down at her dark colored drink. It smells of lavender and mint. "Now we need to keep Alder in check," she says. "Don't let her change her mind. I won't be surprised if she tries to cut ties with them for any move they might make that she doesn't like."

"And then we'll be back to plan A." Izadora says with a dark look shadowing her face.

"Just keep your focus on Raelle and the mycelium and this connection the two and Abigail now have. I'll worry about Sarah."

"I'm feeling a little more optimistic now." Izadora says, lifting her mug.

Anacostia smiles and brings her tea out to Izadora's. "To the truce."

Izadora clinks her mug to her friend's, "To the Necro and Fixer that made all of this possible."

* * *

Raelle stands in the dimly lit room. She stares up at the towering Mycelium wall that slowly moves and swirls in its place. She's been sitting in the Mycelium room for half an hour now, having taken turns through fields and woods absentmindedly after the hours and hours of sitting in the auditorium listening to Alder explain to the entire base that they would be working with the Spree, until she found herself standing in front of the wall that changed her life with one grace of a touch.

She doesn't know why she's here. She hadn't been thinking about the wall or anything, yet here she was, standing in front of it, feeling this connection to a wall of mushroom that she couldn't understand.

"What did you do to me?" she mumbles.

"Raelle?" Raelle turns to the entrance. Izadora stands at the door, chair in one hand and a cup of steaming tea in the other. She walks in and sets the chair on the floor beside Raelle.

"Sergeant," Raelle takes the offered up tea from the lightly smiling instructor. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I came here. I just did."

"You might as well be a Necro from how often I find you here." Izadora laughs softly. "Are you sure you're a healer?" 

A smile crawls across Raelle's face. Izadora steps closer to the wall, stopping just a foot away to stare calculatingly at the mycelium.

"We still have so many unanswered questions when it comes to your connection with the mycelium," Izadora says. "Your blood is still going through vigorous testing, and the way you seem drawn to the wall is interesting. When you and Abigail used your new power during the strike mission, I saw the way the wall reacted. It was as though it fed off of the destruction you caused from this power. You give and it takes, but you also take what it gives. It heals you when you need it. Similar to the remora and shark relationship, perhaps. The mycelium has attached to you. You're both helping each other. We just don't know if it's causing damage as well or what. This is a symbiote relationship I'm not fully confident in."

Raelle mulls this information over in her head and sits down. "So like… Venom?"

Izadora laughs, "If thinking of it like that helps you to understand it, then sure. Kind of like Venom."

Raelle bobs her head, staring at the mycelium. "Cool, I guess."

Izadora turns around and sees the way Raelle stares at the wall. "Alright," she says. "I'll leave you two alone. If you need anything, you know where to find me."

Raelle nods. Izadora steps to the entrance and is about to leave, when she pauses and turns back to the blonde.

"Great job," she says. "You and Scylla are the biggest reason we are where we are now. You two have made history."

Raelle smiles up at the instructor. "Let's hope so."

* * *

Abigail steps into the office. Petra sits across the desk, flipping through paperwork.

"You wanted to see me, mom?"

Petra sets the papers down and looks up at her daughter, who now stands in front of her across from the desk. "Yes. Please, sit." Abigail obliges. "So the Spree," Petra starts.

"Yeah," Abigail says slowly.

"The military working with the Spree is one of the few things Alder and I actually agree on," Petra admits. "I think this is a step in the right direction, with the Camarilla out for our heads. Working together instead of against each other, we will be stronger and more powerful, and this can be the turning point for a coming war. Because, at this rate, there _will_ be a war. I want you to prepare for this possibility, Abigail."

"Yes ma'am." Abigail nods her head quickly.

"That being said, I still don't trust the Spree as far as I can throw them. So I want you to stay away from them. They will be coming onto base for combat training with soldiers and I want you to be careful. I want you to come to me if you see anything suspicious from any of them. Ever."

Abigail stares at her mother, wordlessly.

"Am I understood?" Petra urges.

"How am I supposed to stay away from them when we're supposed to be working together?" Abigail asks. "I can't avoid the Spree, mom."

"Outside of the necessary interactions with them, of course." Petra explains. "You will be required to work side by side with them, yes. But that is all."

"Do you think I'm planning to have a cookout with the Spree?" Abigail's tone is laced with teenage attitude.

Petra doesn't respond immediately. She sits in her seat, staring at her daughter for a few beats of tense silence. "Scylla and Raelle," she starts. "They were together. Perhaps they are once more? That's how this truce has come together, yes? Scylla and Raelle's relationship was brought on by Raelle's mother. Willa."

Abigail almost _jolts_ up from her seat, but she holds back her emotions. How did her mom know that Willa was alive? "How did you…"

"Do you think I wouldn't know that one of the soldiers under _my_ command would have faked her own death?" Petra tilts her head with her rhetorical question. "How do you think she managed to escape without being caught, sweetie?"

The room is beginning to spin around Abigail. "You knew? This whole time?"

"Of course I did. I've known about Willa's escape and about her position in the Spree. I'm the head of Intelligence, after all."

"So why didn't you say anything?" Abigail's voice is growing harsh. She doesn't know what she's more upset about. Her mom letting Raelle think her mom was dead all this time? Or her mom having this crucial information about a Spree leader during the mass murders, and just _sitting_ on it.

"You wouldn't understand," Petra says with a sigh. "Not yet, at least. There are things… Some _strategic_ moves that need to happen and wade in the waters until the next big move that will change it all."

"Mom, I can't—"

"I didn't call you in to talk about Willa. I called you in to tell you to be careful around the Spree. That is all. I will not discuss anything else with you. You are too young and far too low in rank for me to explain myself and my actions to you. But know that it was all done in the best interest of the Army and the Nation."

Abigail shifts in her seat, twirling her fingers around each other anxiously. Petra leans forward in her desk and gives her daughter a delicate and comforting look.

"I love you, Abigail. And I know you are doing your ancestors proud with your work. Training to control this new… _gift_ is so important and I hear that you are doing well with it." Abigail swallows hard and nods. "Keep it up and I'm sure there will be an early promotion coming your way, sweetheart."

Her tone is final and Abigail knows it's her cue to leave the office. She stands from her seat, nods her head once more to her mom, and walks out without another word.

* * *

_Knock knock knock._

"Yes."

Raelle opens the door to General Alder's office. She spots the Biddies scattered around the room doing their own things as Alder sits at the chess board with the newest one. She steps in and draws close to where the general plays her game of logic. Just feet away, she stop and stands at a loose attention.

Alder barely looks up at her. "Scylla," she says, jumping to the point immediately. "Do you vouch for her?"

Raelle is taken aback, but doesn't show it. She nods her head _yes_ confidently, "I do."

Alder moves her knight forward before looking up at Raelle. Her eyes show nothing as she reads Raelle's expression like an open book. After a moment of searching, she nods her own head.

"You will be responsible for her. If she does anything unacceptable, not only is it on her, but it will be on your head too. You and Sergeant Quartermaine. Think of her as a puppy. You take her for walks. Teach her to sit, stay, roll over. If she rips up the furniture, there will repercussions. Don't be wrong about this, Private Collar."

Raelle sucks in a breath, "Yes ma'am."

Alder turns back to the chess game as the Biddy moves her rook. "That was all. You can go now."

* * *

The day is bright and the breeze is cold. Anacostia and Scylla walk from the Fort Salem gate, where she met up with Scylla who had just taken a bus to see the Sergeant and Raelle, to the Circe suites. The atmosphere is light and just as fresh as the weather.

"You know, I knew you would be a huge asset, Ramshorn," Anacostia tells her on the stroll. "I knew you weren't evil. I couldn't send you to die in prison knowing we could work together to get to a mutual goal."

"Just admit it, Anacostia," Scylla says with her teasing smile saved for the older woman. "You like me. You like me a lot. Like a mother loves a daughter."

"Let's not go that far, now." Anacostia says sternly, but Scylla sees the smile twitching at the corners of her lips.

"I'll get you to say it some day, _Mom_."

"Shut up." Anacostia grumbles. "I do have to ask you something. About Raelle."

"Yes?"

"We don't know much about this connection she has with the mycelium. We don't know if it's harming her in a way we can't see yet." Anacostia turns to look at the younger girl. "I know you'll be spending a lot of time with her. I could tell just from seeing Raelle today that you two must have made up." Scylla nods. "Keep an eye on her. Tell me if she starts to seem lethargic or different."

"She _definitely_ wasn't lethargic the other night." Scylla says with a smirk.

"Goddess…" Anacostia rubs her forehead, "I'm seriously, Scylla. If she starts to act weird, we need to know, got it?"

"Yeah, I got it, Anacostia." Scylla pats her shoulder. "I will take care of her."

They continue walking in a comfortable silence until they reach the suites. Scylla starts up the steps to the building entrance as Anacostia calls back to her.

"There's a room in the base's hotel for you," she tells the necro. Scylla turns around to look at her. "If you want to stay closer. Make it easier to reach you. You'll be close to Raelle. No more bus."

"You want me to move back onto base?" Scylla repeats. "I just finally got out of this place."

Anacostia shrugs. "Just think about it," and she turns and walks away.

Scylla watches her back grow smaller as she walks down the street before she turns back to the door and makes her way up to see her girlfriend.


End file.
